Never Again
by Freaking Cage
Summary: It started when the fifth Starbucks was built. Ichigo gets taken to Hueco Mundo and Aizen finds he doesn't just think of Ichigo as a toy after all. AizenxIchigo
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: If I owned both Starbucks and Bleach...well, that would be the equivalent of Jack the Ripper on crack. So no, thank your deity I don't own them.

And another note, this takes place approximately six months after Hueco Mundo Arc. So, spoilers.

* * *

It started when the fifth Starbucks opened in the small town of Karakura, Japan.

One was enough- two would have been plenty- but for some reason the business kept piling in and the builders kept developing. Ichigo thought it was stupid, but hey, he was only 17 anyway, and no one listened to him. He was a teenager, plain and simple, and as groundbreaking as it should be, no one cared about the opinions of the children of the future.

It wasn't really Ichigo's problem anyway, until they built a Starbucks in a very ill-considered place. It was right off of the freeway and this was especially noticed by the town next door. The town next to Karakura wasn't the best town- in fact, it was a pretty bad town. Where Karakura's test scores where high, robbery rates were higher in the next town over. So it wasn't until the fifth Starbucks was built and those people from the next town over began to come and start their fiesta of hold ups, robberies and knife-points that Ichigo began to care.

Where there were hold ups there were shootings, sometimes knifings for those of lesser income, and where there were these such things, there were deaths.

And Ichigo well knew the product of death. For one, people cried. For another, some became hollows, and that was never a pro on Ichigo's list, considering he was the one that had to drag around a huge piece of steel half his size to make sure other people weren't murdered at the hands-or claws- of the murdered.

So it was all thanks to the construction of the fifth Starbucks in Karakura town that was unfavorably placed next to the freeway that our young hero's adventure was wrought. And of course, to the brilliant man that schemed it all.

_Freakingcage7 proudly presents..._

**Never Again**

Ichigo grunted a half sigh and cracked his neck. After taking a three hour long Academic Efficiency test, he was ready to just lie down on his soft couch at home and never intake another fact again. The only really good thing about the whole farce was that the kids of Karakura High were able to go home early. Chad stood in the door, blocking half of it like the huge monolith he was. He nodded in Ichigo's direction, and Ichigo nodded back whilst swinging his arms from side to side, trying to motivate his very scrunched up muscles.

"Ow!" a small feminine voice cried behind him. Ichigo whipped around and tensed up apologetically.

"Jackass!" Tatsuki called out from Ichigo's side. She slammed him in the ribs with a punch before he could even apologize to his unintended victim.

"Watch it!" he growled to her, then turned back to a young girl with reddish-brown hair. "Orihime-chan! I'm sorry, are you alright?" he asked.

"Oh don't worry Kurosaki-kun." She muttered, and a blush began to creep over her fair complexion. "I'm alright, I'm really sturdy! Barely fazed me, really!" she clenched her fists together and looked up at him with bright gray eyes, determined to show him just how okay she was. She smiled and punched the air enthusiastically, and Tatsuki brought a rough hand down on her best friend's head.

"Take it easy tiger." She ruffled Orihime's hair and grabbed her arm. "Come on, I'm going to be late for Karate. Shishou will kill me." She dragged Orihime out of the class, who was wistfully gazing at her long termed crush. Ichigo sighed and grumbled something unpleasant about Tatsuki. Granted, she was his oldest friend, but sometimes she was his most annoying friend.

"IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICHIGOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" Strike that, Keigo was his most annoying friend. "COME _on_ buddy! We're gonna miss the big game! It's the Osaka Tigers verses the Tokyo Giants! If we miss this game we can kiss our popularity good-bye!" he waved his arms back and forth energetically and Ichigo wondered absent-mindedly how many red bulls his friend had had that morning.

"Sorry man. I've gotta study." Ichigo told him lazily and headed to the door.

"WHAT??"

"Now now Keigo, why don't we just—" Mizuiro tried and failed to settle his friend, but Ichigo could still hear the haranguing Keigo was dishing out to him.

"IF YOU DON'T **SEE** THIS _GAME_ YOU'RE GOING TO BE THE _**BIGGEST**_ LOSER IN—" Ichigo didn't bother sticking around. Instead he took off down the hall with Chad at his side.

They'd gotten as far as the park when their silence was interrupted.

"Hello Kurosaki-kun, Sado-kun."

"Orihime-san." Chad nodded in acknowledgement of her arrival and carried on walking, one large foot crashing down in front of the other, like the waves of the tide.

"Hello Orihime-chan." Ichigo said, almost surprised at her arrival. "What're you doing here?"

"Well, Tatsuki's at the dojo, and with all of the..." she trailed off momentarily, searching for the right words. Words that wouldn't cause a fuss, but could explain her need. "_Activity_ going on here, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind terribly if I just walked with you a little bit." Ichigo nodded, knowing her reasoning. It wasn't safe for a pretty young girl to be wandering the streets of Karakura nowadays, with all of the _activity _going on, as she put it. Truth be told, Karakura was going through some changes. Ever since that damn Starbucks by the freeway there'd been lots of criminal activity. Orihime cleared her throat a bit which was followed by another discreet blush. "It's not that I can't take care of myself!" she urged to convince him. "I just figured, 'Might as well have some good company'!" she smiled cheerily at the pair of young boys and Ichigo heard himself sigh.

"Don't worry about it. I'll take you home." He assured her.

"Oh, I don't mean for you to go completely out of your way! I just—"

"Orihime." Ichigo said seriously and looked her straight in the eye. Her blush grew and Ichigo wondered if her school uniform was too warm for her. "Don't worry about it. I'd be more troubled if I didn't know if you'd gotten home safely."

"O-okay." She said quietly and resumed her pace. She brushed her hair out of her face, and did her best to cover up the small smile she wore.

He and Orihime chatted small talk- exams, answers, and a bit about the weather- while Chad grunted next to them. They were nearing Orihime's home when a group of junior high school girls passed them on the road, each holding a Starbucks frappaccino. Chad frowned and Ichigo grunted disapprovingly. The girls took notice and hurried past them, not sure whether they were desirable company, nor wanting to hear of their disapproval.

"You don't like Starbucks Kurosaki-kun?" Orihime, asked tilting her head to the side. Ichigo folded his arms behind his head and frowned deeply.

"Not since they began springing up like rabbits multiplying in this town. For peet's sake what do we need five of them for? I thought one was plenty."

"Yeah..." Orihime seemed almost lost in her own thoughts.

"Orihime-chan?" Ichigo asked unsurely, trying to start up another conversation. Silence was alright, but he got the feeling it made her somewhat uncomfortable. "What do you think? About Starbucks that is?"

"Well," she looked down, mostly shy and a bit ashamed. "I...well, I just _love_ their frappaccinos! Have you ever tried the java chip one? Oh, I think that one's their best! But then, brownie's pretty good. Actually, I always like eating their frappaccinos with nachos. Nachos with osabi and dango are the best! And cherries!" Ichigo could feel his smile begin to turn into a cringe as they finally stepped in front of her house.

"Right, well—" Ichigo broke off her little speech and scratched his head. "I guess we'll see you tomorrow. Right Chad?"

"Hmm." Chad nodded.

"Okay! Good bye Sado-kun! Kurosaki-kun! And good luck studying for the second part of the exam!" her chestnut head bounded to her front door and she took a small moment to unlock it. Once Ichigo saw her enter her home, he sighed tiredly and looked to his massive friend.

"Oi Chad. Guess I'll see you tomorrow too?" he asked.

"Yeah." Chad affirmed and turned to go to his home, which was fairly close to Orihime's. Ichigo was turning in the opposite direction when Chad stopped him. "Ichigo-" he called to him. "Are _you_ gonna be okay? Walking home all alone." Ichigo scoffed. It was well known, especially by Chad, how Ichigo was beginning to get picked on again from the new arrivals because of his hair color. Of course, he'd had no trouble as of yet getting rid of them.

"I'll be fine." He said with a handful of bravado and stretched out his shoulders to their full width. "See ya."

"Yeah, see ya." Chad mumbled as Ichigo walked away, raising a hand in separation. Chad stayed in his place for a moment, watching the back of Kurosaki Ichigo leave him. Chad never _was _really concerned about Ichigo; he'd already proven that he could take care of himself. But for some reason or other, Chad just couldn't shake off the bad feeling that Ichigo would be missing by morning.

* * *

Author's Note: Yeah, I'm not really promising you anything here. I'll update as best as I can, but this is an attempt at an AizenxIchigo fanfiction, with plot. My first one actually (with plot). So tell me what you want to see and I'll do my best to please you. Um, my humor is a little weird, but hopefully not too bad. You don't see much of that in this chapter, but it comes and goes throughout. I suck at angsty stuff, so that won't appear very much. Mostly British humor and thought process, and I like action, so you'll get a couple fight scenes here. Hopefully I'll finish this within a year or so. Or something. Ugh, High school.

P.S. This is set after the Hueco Mundo arch. And since that arch isn't finished, if this gets finished after that does, and something is different...I'm still not changing it.

P.S.S. Though I usually prefer it, I won't be doing first-person perspective, I'm too iffy on that. So I'll be doing various POV. Mostly likely Ichigo and Aizen, sometimes from other characters too.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Ichigo hummed to himself a tune, some tune his sister Yuzu loved to listen to. He personally hated the song, but she listened to it constantly, and by constantly, he meant it. She would put it on repeat, and sing along as loudly as her little lungs would allow.

But he sang it anyway, not because he liked it, but because it was the only real song he could think of at the moment.

Exams had drained him completely. He could only read various wrong answers to a stupid question for so long before he began to lose brain cells. It wasn't so much a matter of finding the right answer to the question, but a matter of which was the least stupid of the bunch. The questions were all stupid, in Ichigo's opinion. He preferred simple math equations to the dumb scenarios they gave. 'How many apples does Gojyo have if Hakkai has...blah blah blah'. What_ever_, in Ichigo's high opinion. He groaned to himself as he approached the door to his home. He could already feel the spiritual pressure of his father waiting for him, waiting to jump and attack his own son, behind the door.

Ichigo had found out from Hat and Clogs about his father. He hadn't believed it at first, his dad had never been able to see the dead, but after finding out the reason for his father's lack of spiritual pressure he understood. He'd given it up for his mother, but after doing so, some must have slipped back in, because if Ichigo searched for it really hard, he could feel it. It was like trying to find the direction of the heater in an already warm room- difficult, but manageable.

He stood to the side and opened the door. His father came rushing out suddenly and wound up face down in the cement sidewalk, mumbling loudly about unappreciative sons and such. Ichigo rushed into the house and grabbed a plate from his youngest sister's small hands.

"Good Evening Ichi-nii!" his sister smiled at him cheerfully.

"Hey." His other sister said vaguely from underneath her baseball cap. She shoveled in rice like a tractor shovels rubble and didn't show signs of slowing down. Ichigo was startled that she'd even bothered to say hello at all. Karin hadn't been very talkative since Ichigo had returned. In fact, the reasoning behind that was that Karin was pissed at Ichigo. He didn't know how his sister had found out, but she knew, and hated him for putting himself in such danger. The entire first week he'd come back she would barely even look at him. She didn't even utter a sound in his direction until a whole month after his return. Normally, she was very rambunctious, and he'd expected her to just duke it out with him and beat him up. She'd taken her anger in silently however, somewhat proving her to be a woman, and had refused to speak to him about it.

Maybe it was that she knew it was really an untouchable subject, or maybe she was just more worried than she'd ever been. Whatever the case, at least she was speaking to him again. He settled down next to her, avoiding having to stare at her from across the table, and relaxed into his seat.

"Hey." He replied. And dug into his own plate. He looked at his plate and saw that Yuzu had made takoyaki tonight. "What's the occasion?" he asked. It wasn't often his sister bothered to go to the trouble of making such meals.

"Nothing really!" his sister answered. "I just thought it'd be a nice meal considering the game is tonight. Are you going to watch it with Karin?" she asked hopefully. She had noticed her sister's coldness to their only brother, and was doing to best to mediate, despite not knowing the real reason why.

Ichigo thought about it. He kind of wanted to. He wasn't sure how Karin would react, but he did miss the mutual understanding they now lacked. Karin strategically avoided Ichigo's face and continued to eat.

"Well," he said unsurely. "I suppose I could watch the first few innings, but I need to study for tomorrow's exams, so—"

"Yay!" Yuzu threw her serving stick into the air and caught it, much like a baton. Ichigo smiled slightly as his sister continued to do a baton dance with a rice covered stick. His father had entered and was brushing off the dirt from his earlier fall when he walked in on his daughter's dancing.

"Celebrate!" he shouted much-too-loudly and joined in on her dance.

"You idiot! Stop making a fool of yourself!" Karin shouted at him, annoyed as her father tried to do what he thought was break-dance. After some bantering and cheering and grunting and crying (most on Isshin's part) the small family settled down in front of their equally small television. They turned on the game and sat, side by side, on the small couch.

After a time each began moving their positions. Yuzu fell asleep on her father's shoulder in the fourth inning, and Ichigo moved to the floor and leaned against the front of the couch. By the seventh inning, Isshin moved Yuzu to her room and ended up falling asleep, snoring for all the neighborhood the to hear by the eighth.

Ichigo hadn't meant to stay for the whole game, but by the ninth inning, he was completely engrossed in the game.

It was close. It was 3 to 2, Giant's leading, but with the Tiger's next batter, it was most definitely going to wind up a tie. He looked up sideways at his sister, who was staring intently at the screen. Her eyes were livid at the prospect of the Tigers losing-she was forever a Tigers fan- and wouldn't take her glare off of the screen for anything. He looked at his sister discreetly and began to really look at her. She was almost 14 now, and it was showing. She'd gotten taller, and her hair had even grown out a bit. Though she still kept her tomboy attitude and looks for the most part, Ichigo could see traces of their mother in her now. She had their mother's nose and chin, and it was starting to show that she was beginning to have their mother's eyes as well.

It almost made him nervous. What would he do, when his younger sisters began to date? What would he do to the boys that came knocking at the door, trying to call on his Yuzu, his Karin? Well obviously he'd punch their lights out. Or Karin would. Whoever got to the door first really. He couldn't imagine his sister Karin ever dating. Not that she wasn't pretty, she was plenty of that now, he just knew that his sister's standards were high. If she were to even think about dating, she wouldn't settle for some random guy who asked her out just because he thought she was cute. She wasn't easily flattered.

Yuzu however...well, Ichigo would come to that when _that_ time came.

Right as Ichigo was finishing this train of thought, a knock was heard at the door. Ichigo glanced to his sister, who didn't look like she was going to miss a second of this game, even if it were God at the door. Ichigo sighed and got up, grudgingly heading for the door._ This had _better_ be important_. He thought irritably to himself as he opened the door.

Thinking on it later, Ichigo realized he shouldn't have opened the door at ten at night. After all, robberies were becoming common, not to mention it was night. But of course Ichigo was tired from a long day of exams and of sitting on his ass watching TV, so he wasn't really thinking straight.

So when opening the door, Ichigo was horrifyingly shocked to see someone whom he really shouldn't have opened the door for. Two people in fact.

For there in his doorway stood the devilishly smiling Arrancar Grimmjow and the coldly expressionless Arrancar Ulquiorra.

------Commercial break!-------

Soul Candy! For everyone with a soul and a taste for candy.

-----End commercial break------

Grimmjow chuckled as he looked on the shocked face of Kurosaki Ichigo.

"Long time no see Shit-face." it took Ichigo a moment to register all of this. Not only were two very strong Espada standing in his doorway, but they were both in...was this right? Were they in gigai form? And why were they dressed like gang members?

"W-What do you want?" he asked, defensive and shocked. He nearly backed away from the door, but thought better of it. He didn't want them to see his innocent sister sitting on the couch watching the television.

"Heh. You're dumber than you look. And that's pretty stupid to start with."

"Aizen-sama requests your presence." Ulquiorra was never one to waste a moment.

"Che, I was getting to that." Grimmjow muttered angrily. He turned to Ichigo, grin gone and thin eyebrows closely knitted. "Come on, we got a couple other stops to make."

"What'd'you mean?"

"Duh, you're not the only bitch we need to steal." Grimmjow bared his teeth in amusement and took his hands from out of his pockets.

"Why are you in gigai form? What's with the leather jackets? What is this? I've beaten you before Grimmjow, I'll do it again." He warned, taking on a sudden offensive stance.

"Heh! What a joke. With your precious family inside? I don't think so bitch. Let's _go_." Grimmjow was getting impatient, and when Grimmjow became impatient, things usually had the tendency to get destroyed, or obliterated. Either one worked for the hot-headed dead man.

Ichigo stopped and his fingers gripped the side of the door harshly, causing his fingers to turn white. "You wouldn't." he stated, daring the Espada to piss him off. Grimmjow straightened his shoulders out slowly and took a step closer to Ichigo, close enough to breathe hot air into his face.

"Don't tell me what I will or won't do punk. I don't answer to your authority."

"You will answer to Aizen-sama." Ulquiorra interrupted with his unquestionable comment. "Kurosaki Ichigo. If you do not come with us willingly, we will be forced to take you violently. I don't think it will be worth it on your end, because either way we will take you back with us."

Ichigo lifted his head higher out of spite. "Oh yeah? Says who?" he challenged.

"That would be me." Everyone turned to face the roof, from which the familiar voice had come.

"Aizen-sama." Ulquiorra gave a quick bow and Grimmjow faltered for a moment, obviously not knowing his master had been there the whole time. Ichigo stiffened and looked up at the traitor. For there he was, hair slicked back and beady brown eyes gazing at him sharply.

"Kurosaki Ichigo. I highly recommend that you come with these fine gentlemen before I tell them to go inside and rough up your family a bit. Are we agreed?"

Ichigo was caught. He glared at the man with all of the hate he could muster, but it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough to save his family. Could he save his family? He couldn't just take this lying down! But...

Images of Aizen slicing Ichigo in half in the Soul Society came to his mind in vivid detail. If he could, and would, do that to him, what would he do to his family?

A loud growl erupted from behind him, and he heard his sister yell happily in her quietest voice at the screen. The Tigers had scored. Aizen raised an eyebrow at Ichigo questioningly while the target of his unwavering gaze twitched. It wasn't Ichigo's nature to just give up without a fight. Every muscle in his body screamed at him to release himself into Shinigami form, to free himself from the bind and fight Aizen, Ulquiorra and Grimmjow to the death.

But death was closer than Ichigo liked to admit as a possibility, and closer to his family than he would even consider thinking about. While Ichigo's body wanted a fight, his mind wanted peace. For the first time in his life, Kurosaki Ichigo was being faced with truly giving up without a fight. And as much as Ichigo hated it, he was slowly inclined to accept the offer.

It wasn't for himself, he told himself, it was for his family. For his sisters.

"Ichigo! Hurry up! What's going on over there?" Karin shouted a whisper from the living room.

"Nothing!" he answered and his brow creased further. He couldn't just _not_ fight. But he couldn't let his family get hurt either.

He was off guard and was being left to improvise. But improvising off of nothing wasn't a skill he really had a talent for. He was alone. Alone to make the decision-fight or flight. Literally, in both cases.

"If this helps your decision," Aizen called from the roof lazily. "We already have your little girlfriend."

"Y-You son of a –"

"Language, Kurosaki Ichigo." Ulquiorra reminded him, coming up in a sudden flash from his earlier place. His hand was whipped out, fingers pointed to Ichigo's neck, threatening to take it off.

"So? What is your choice? Come peacefully...or coming with the knowledge that your family is in pieces?" Aizen offered the bargain to him calmly, but Ichigo had a hard time seeing straight. He didn't _have_ a choice. That was what Aizen was telling him.

"You'll regret this. I'll _make_ you regret this." Ichigo forewarned. Aizen chuckled.

"If only Ichigo-kun, if only."

"Don't be so familiar with me!" he shouted angrily. Ulquiorra came from behind and grabbed Ichigo's arms behind his back, restraining him from being able to make any sudden movements.

"I don't see why not. We'll be seeing a lot of each other from now on Ichigo-kun." By the time Ichigo had opened his mouth to protest, Ulquiorra had already jumped into the waiting garganta that was hovering in the sky, like a giant mouth waiting to devour fresh meat. Aizen's gaze followed them until they disappeared into the black chasm, then without moving his head, set his focus on his Sixth Espada.

"Grimmjow. Rough up the family a bit. Make the neighbors think it's another break in."

"Ahh." Grimmjow answered, and Aizen disappeared as well. Grimmjow was left alone on the front porch of he Kurosaki Clinic, wondering just what 'rough up' implied.

"Ichigo! WHAT are you doing? Get in here!" shouted Karin, volume at its normal setting, from the couch. Grimmjow's lip curled into a simper.

He would leave it to self-interpretation.

* * *

Author's Note: I'm not quite sure where I'm going to go from here, but hopefully, I'll plan everything out tomorrow. I'm not working or anything, but I might need to return my uniform to DK. They sent me a holiday card, isn't that thoughtful? The library doesn't do that. :(

I feel bad for doing this to Ichigo. Don't worry though, he's going to wreak havoc in Hueco Mundo, so his fighting spirit isn't going to be tampered with all that much. I like the guys that just never seem to die. Reminds me of my German heritage. :)


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

"Don't move." Ulquiorra commanded the red-headed 17-year-old.

"Don't _touch_ me." Ichigo retorted back, and pulled his arm from the other. Ulquiorra almost sighed, but for Ulquiorra to sigh, he would need to be much more agitated. As of right now however, Kurosaki Ichigo hadn't caused enough trouble to get such a reaction from Ulquiorra.

Ichigo looked around him, gaze flickering from one empty corridor to the next. "Is anyone here?" Ulquiorra chose not to answer. "Huh?" Ichigo shoved his angry face into Ulquiorra's stoic one. "Where's Orihime?! Huh?!"

"Calm down Ichigo-kun." An order came from Ichigo's left. Ichigo turned hastily to find Aizen sitting in a huge throne made of white stone, or perhaps it was marble. Ichigo had ever been big on rocks.

"Screw you!" Ichigo screamed at him, but stayed in his place, not daring to move forward. Ichigo felt something prod his back.

"No need Ulquiorra."

"Yes Aizen-sama." Ulquiorra stepped back a few steps and placed his hands to his sides stiffly, ready to do anything at any moment if given the order. Ichigo's breathing was becoming irregular. He didn't like this. He didn't like this _at all_. He wanted to get out. He felt like a small rabbit in an even smaller cage, wary of being watched like a fuzzy little pet, merely for the enjoyment of the one that held the power to contain him. The only thing Ichigo was able to do right now was to bite Aizen in any shape or form.

"Where's Orihime? You lied to me didn't you?! Shit!" Ichigo cursed himself for being so naïve. Of c_ourse_ he hadn't taken her, he wouldn't dare after—

"Calm down stupid boy." Aizen said roughly, his patience growing thin. "She's being kept away from you. We can't have our prisoners conspiring now can we?" Ichigo began to tremble and shiver from rage. He could feel the hollow inside of him swirling beneath his flesh, calling to him, wanting an escape, but he pushed it down. For the time being, he didn't want to risk his chances.

"When can I see her?" he demanded to know, Aizen merely chuckled in response. "When?!"

"Maybe in a year, when you've finally settled down. I'll work out the details later." _When I see your full reaction._ He conveniently didn't mention.

Ichigo's blood began to boil. Hot rage bubbled and he could nearly taste foam in his mouth. He was so _angry_, but there was nothing to vent on...or was there...he could feel the hollow cackling in the back of his mind, slowly coming to consciousness.

_No! _he thought desperately, and his frustration now added to his fury. _I control you now! I've conquered you! _

_You wish tyrant!_ Screeched the hollow from the depths of his soul. Ichigo doubled over, desperately trying to control himself and the freakish being inside of him. _Pathetic pathetic pathetic! What've you got to lose fool? Just take him here and now! Who cares if you die! You're family's out of this! Salvage your pride dumbass!_

Ichigo's shoulders shook violently and Ulquiorra stepped forward, ready to spring into action and chop the young man's head off if need be. Aizen halted him with one hand, and then brought it back for his cheek to rest on. Finally, something amusing was going on. He knew he missed the boy for some reason or other.

Ichigo spat out a line of bile and his stomach continued to convulse as he struggled to get a hold on himself.

_Whatcha gonna do dummy? Kill the mother fucker! DO it. What've you got to lose?!_

_Everything!_ Ichigo slammed his head into the floor, biting the side of his tongue, and a line of spit hung from his mouth as he spat out the blood. _Everything!_ He shouted inside himself again and slammed his skull against the marble a second time.

He repeated it to himself, a mantra amidst the chaos of his heart and mind. He repeatedly crashed his head into the floor, not hesitating to bash his skull in if need be. He couldn't do this now. He needed a plan. He wouldn't give anyone an excuse to bring harm to his friends, to his family. The only person he was willing to sacrifice was himself, and so he continued to batter himself to a pulp right in front of the leader of Hueco Mundo.

Aizen smiled. Such fun, he thought to himself while crossing one leg to rest on his knee. He couldn't wait to see what else the _boy_ was going to show him.

-------Commercial Break!--------

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------End commercial Break------

Grimmjow chuckled loudly to himself as he wiped the blood off of his face. That black-haired little girl could sure put up a fight, you know, for a human. He wondered just how pissed Ichigo would be, to know that Grimmjow had been ordered to take care of the family anyway. He looked at the house, nearly falling apart in one corner and part of it on fire. He could hear loud sirens in the background and see faces behind the curtains of the windows of the neighboring houses.

_Get a good look you __**cowards**_. Grimmjow sneered at them. So much for Ichigo's apparent martyr-like spirit. None of these people intended to come out and salvage the family or their home. So much for neighborly affection. Grimmjow spat out some blood- the other little chick had kicked him in the face, damn inefficient gigai.

Figured though, Aizen had wanted it to look like a break in, and for that you needed a couple witnesses. And it would be kind of difficult to have a witness that didn't actually _see_ the perpetrator. He didn't mind the jacket though, he liked it better than the other stupid white one he was always forced to wear. Sure this was more limiting, but it was more to Grimmjow's taste, and no one could argue that Grimmjow had anything less than a bucket-load of style. Grimmjow Jaggerjaque thought highly of himself, almost as much as he thought lowly of these people hiding behind their pieces of ugly fabric, waiting for it to be over, for their precious _safety _to return. If one were to ask Grimmjow, safety was overrated.

The sirens became louder, Doppler Effect working its way to Grimmjow's supernatural ears. He scoffed and stuck his pinky in his ear, flicking out a piece of wax. _Hypocrites, all of you fuckers_. Grimmjow flipped off one of the 'hiding' neighbors, and the said neighbor stepped back, hoping to have Grimmjow's attention drawn to something else. Hoping he'd just pass them by, no harm done.

Grimmjow wanted to go after the whole neighborhood now. Hey, he thought to himself mischievously, wouldn't it look suspicious if he only targeted one house? But the sirens were nearly at his back now, and he had no time. So instead he walked up to the next house, hawked a good lougie on it and kicked some dirt on the clean white surface.

"Fuck _all_ you humans!" he shouted before running, aiming for his destination garganta a few blocks away. Grimmjow would have loved to give them a good show, scare all their asses by flying into the sky and disappearing in some bad ass black hole. But for some reason, Grimmjow Jaggerjaque was fed up, and he didn't really _feel_ like giving them the honor of a truly magnificent exit.

Those bastards didn't deserve entertainment like that.

* * *

Ichigo was locked up.

Not literally of course, but figuratively. The room he was given was nice enough, it even had its own little kitchenette, but he was being held there against his will, and _that_ Ichigo counted as being locked up. He didn't know how Orihime had been able to stand it. If he was left in here for one more hour on his own he was convinced he'd go insane. And she'd been like this for how long? A month or two? Not counting the time it took for them to actually get to her as well. Ichigo twitched as his nerves sent reactions flying to his brain. _This isn't right, this isn't good. _They told him. _Get out now. Get out _now.

He told himself to shut up, just shut up and take it for now.

But he didn't _want_ to take it. He _couldn't_ take it, that was the whole _point_. Ichigo was defiling his very nature just by standing in the room, much less taking it like a good bitch for some crack pot jackass who spent the largest amount of his time sitting in some big ass throne. Ichigo was afraid to move. He knew that if he did, he would end up the next second crashing that white nightstand into the door and bellowing for all of the neighboring Arrancar to hear about his laments. He could give them an earful, that was for sure.

Ichigo thought to himself gleefully what he would do if he were to take one step away from his current position. He would scream and shout and burst out of the door, he would release his Shinigami form for about five minutes before taking it to the next level of his Vaizard capabilities. Bet _that_ would show Aizen. That would show him just what _Kurosaki Ichigo_ was capable of.

_So do it_. His inner voice said, enticing him into action. It wasn't his hollow voice, that voice was much ruder and...squealish. It was his own voice, his own small voice telling him that this was enough. He'd done the best he could for so long, but now was the time to kick some Arrancar Ass. It made Ichigo giddy, thinking about smashing the arrancar to pieces. He wasn't normally so cruel of heart, but something inside of Ichigo was beginning to snap. He wouldn't discriminate. Anyone that came into his path he would obliterate.

Strangely enough they hadn't taken his representative badge away from him. He wondered briefly why that was. Did they know he had it on him? They must know, Aizen wasn't stupid, and was even for the most part overly cautious. So why did they let him keep it? _Whatever,_ he thought darkly to himself as his hand slowly moved to his back pocket. _Just do it._ The voice egged him on, wanting to take back some of the dignity he'd lost by coming here without so much as a bitchslap to his enemies. His fingers caught on the leather of the badge as he slowly edged it out. His fingertips brushed over the metal of the skull that was attached to the front as he brought it to his face. He looked at it with a solemn glee, knowing the destruction that would come if he went through with this.

_Alright Kurosaki_. He chuckled a small scoff to himself, blowing out air from his nose in excitement and irritation. Adrenaline began to bite at his senses, and he became keenly aware of the situation around him. He thought of Aizen, sitting in that goddamn throne, looking at him like a piece of krill, small and insignificant, hardly worth his time. Is that why he was planning to get more of his friends? Is that why he'd brought Orihime back into this? The more krill the more precise the tests? The bigger the meal? It made Ichigo shiver in fury to think that once again he was being played with by that _bastard_.

He wouldn't take it lying down. He wouldn't be Aizen's little bitch for all eternity, or however long he was planning to keep him here until he was no longer of any amusement to the former Soul Society captain.

_Alright Kurosaki. Time to shine.

* * *

_

Grimmjow was halfway to the garganta when he remembered something. His job wasn't over yet. He cursed Aizen for being such an overbearing prick and headed down another street. He didn't bother keeping a low profile now. Aizen would only be pissed if he found out about it, and no one in this neighborhood would stay up later than 11 o'clock, Grimmjow was willing to bet.

Humans were so _pathetic_, in Grimmjow's opinion. They were killed so easily it was hardly worth the effort. He understood everything a hollow was, he understood everything animals did- they killed each other to survive, but humans? They killed each other because they _felt_ like it, and while Grimmjow sometimes saw that as appealing, it still didn't make any sense. He knew the adrenaline rush well, the feeling that came with seeing your enemy fall down, covered in their own blood. But if they weren't your enemy? What was the point? Grimmjow flew past the houses and caught a glimpse of a small child, impossible to tell the gender at his fast pace, sleeping quietly in the recesses of its small room.

Grimmjow knew that kids like that one were murdered in their beds brutally all the time. But why? What did the kid do, what threat did they pose? Grimmjow shook it off and continued on following the short and precise directions Ulquiorra had given him. It wasn't his problem. Grimmjow did always have the tendency to get a little philosophical at night, when the dark crept into your mind like fog on a bay beach.

Grimmjow blew out cold steam from his nostrils and stopped, checking his surroundings and casually lifting his chin, bravado being a natural instinct even when no one was around to appreciate it. He rolled his eyes and looked down at the house before him. If it wasn't the right one, it wouldn't be his fault; Ulquiorra gave him the goddamn directions. Grimmjow sneezed into the night air and jumped from the roof he was currently viewing from, heading to the window of his intended prey. He looked inside but didn't see anything. He grumbled something unappreciative and went to the next window, but before he could get there, he felt a shot of weird reiatsu pointing in his direction.

"State your business scum." To his left was a young man about Ichigo's age. He had short black hair but had long bangs, which Grimmjow took notice of. They kind of weirded him out.

As much as Grimmjow wouldn't mind giving the little freak a nice showdown, he decided it would be best to stay on task. He didn't want Ulquiorra and Aizen riding his ass, he'd had enough of that for a lifetime.

"Just here to relay a small message. Your buddy Ichigo? Yeah we've—"

"I don't associate with that Shinigami trash." The young man named Ishida Uryu replied sharply. Grimmjow bit his tongue, convincing himself it wouldn't be worth it to slam his freakish four-eyed face into the ground.

"Well, then I guess you won't care that we've got him in our hold. Too bad, guess we're just gonna have to kill him quick." Grimjow grinned his cocky grin and backed away from the Quincy. If the dude was surprised, he certainly didn't show it, Grimmjow noted to himself. "See ya loser. Oh, by the way, we've also got that chick back too." Grimmjow laughed raucously and was out of there before you could say 'Cat got your tongue'.

Ishida Uryu hesitated before letting his bow fall to his side. His hands shook slightly, but he couldn't stop them. _Again._ He thought dejectedly to himself. _Ichigo you fool!

* * *

_

Author's Note: Yay, the plot goes somewhere. So in the next chapter you can count on Ichigo being his bad ass self, Uryu worrying like a girl with Chad and possibly some others, and I'll let you maybe get a glimpse of Orihime. Also, for those of you worried about the family? I'll explain that too hopefully, if I have time. Just know that it will be explained...

And also, I have determined that I will do it! Because I'm not a big fan of writing rape (so sue me, I'm Protestant) I am going to make Aizen fall in love with Ichigo!! ...Wish me luck...I'll need it...::crosses fingers::

And I'm updating early for the sake of the holiday. Happy New Year!! '08! '08!

Now it's time to watch The Office. Hooray for Steve Carell. That guy cracks me up.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Corga didn't know what he was really supposed to be doing. Ulquiorra had told him to stay here and watch for the red-headed kid that had just been brought there, but that was all. Nothing about reporting to anyone if the kid left his unlocked room. Why was that anyway? Corga wondered to himself. The kid could just bust out of there and go on a crazy rampage whenever he wanted to. Did Aizen-sama plan this? He never had actually met the guy, but he'd heard the horror stories of what happened to those that pissed him off. For that, Corga was _glad_ he'd never met him and was planning on staying a good little Arrancar and remaining in the shadows. As long as he lived, he didn't care what was going on, that was Corga's standard of living.

He shifted his weight to the other foot and sighed, bored already with his lame job. Why couldn't those bitches do this? Loli...Cannoli...whoever they were really. Corga wondered just why exactly Aizen kept them around, they were always so _cocky _and '_pretentious'_ and no one really cared for them. He guessed even Aizen appreciated a nice piece of ass every now and then. Corga was just delving into that train of thought deeper when footsteps began to approach him from behind. He lazily turned his head about, wondering if maybe someone had come to join him, or go into more specific detail about his job. He hesitated momentarily, noticing it was neither.

It was the kid, the orange-head coming his way, dressed in...

Shit, Corga muttered to himself and brought out his Zanpakuto. He brought it out from his belt and prepared to strike, not really caring if he was supposed to keep the kid dead or alive, when his shoulder itched. Suddenly the kid disappeared from his field of vision. _What the hell?_ He wondered to himself, but his question was instantly answered by his arm falling off.

"Shit!" he screamed and back peddled towards the wall, looking around him furiously, trying to find the bastard again. He looked around ferociously but nothing caught his view. His knees folded under him, and he could feel his strength depleting from the lack of blood. It seemed to outpour endlessly from his shoulder and he felt a heavy sort of nausea fill his throat when he saw his limp arm lying on the floor next to him. He grabbed hold of his shoulder and ran, staggering toward the hospital wing of Hueco Mundo.

He turned around a few times, making sure the kid hadn't decided to come back and kill him, but it amounted to nothing.

The kid had gone.

* * *

Ichigo ran through the halls, not even thinking about making a quick stop to check his surroundings.

He didn't know why his door had been unlocked, and he didn't know why he hadn't just killed the Arrancar standing at the end of the hall, but the answers to the questions were probably stupid anyway. Ichigo just wanted to get the hell out of there. He twisted around a few times, making sure no one was trailing him- he'd heard footsteps, but it was impossible to tell how close they were giving the echoing nature of the halls- but for the most part continued down a straight path.

It was unnerving, the halls that kept going straight, never really intersecting. He was inside a labyrinth and could almost feel himself being drawn to the monster in the middle, but never quite knowing when he'd arrive. In the meantime he ran, ran faster than he thought he could bear. His lungs were fighting him, begging him to take a breath of air, stop for a bit, but he ignored them diligently. He wouldn't stop until he came across something that he could fight.

His feet slid slightly under the smooth floor, nearly slowing him down. He picked up his pace further and the sound of the still air now rushed at a louder frequency as he whipped through it. His adrenaline was starting to slow down, decreasing from the lack of motivation, but Ichigo kept up his new pace. He tried jazzing himself up, thinking about just what he'd do if he met someone unfriendly. The thought of Ulquiorra or Grimmjow crossing his path wasn't necessarily appealing, but at least he'd get in some quality kick-ass time. He didn't really have a plan for the most part, only now that his nerves were on end were his improvisation skills working, so he slowly tried to work out something.

_Orihime!_ He came to the thought suddenly. She had to be here somewhere! he reminded himself. He stopped suddenly and looked around him. _Okay, no doors here._ He picked up his feet again and began to run again, this time with real purpose. At the next T-intersection he made a right turn, following his instincts. Before long he reached a long line of doors...A _lot_ of doors.

Shit! He thought to himself. He didn't think about the possibility she would be behind these doors. After all, there were a lot of doors here, and she was only bound to be in one room. He scoffed a bit and hiked up his pants a few inches. Well, then he'd just have to bust down every door until he did find her. He went up to the first door cautiously and edged up against it, leaning in one ear. He didn't hear anything, so he lightly tugged on the handle, which much to Ichigo's luck was unlocked. He opened it warily and peeked inside.

"Orihime?" he whispered loudly, but there was no response. _Guess she's not there._ He said to himself and shut the door again. He did the same for the next couple doors, but to each there was no response. God, where was everyone? he wanted to know.

He reached maybe the tenth door down and listened to the goings on behind it, once again he didn't hear anything, but decided to open it, just for the sake of making sure.

"Orihime-san? Inoue-chan?" he called softly, but there was no response. He sighed, upset by his lack of findings and shut the door, not bothering to muffle the sound.

If only Ichigo had bothered to look around the room, he would have seen that it was made for a female captive. Female clothes were lying on the bed, accompanied by a new pair of clothing obviously offered by Aizen. If he'd stayed a little longer, he would have noticed that there were soft sounds emitting from the bathroom that was located beyond the bed. He would have heard footsteps coming out from the bathroom, into the main room.

Gray eyes stared curiously to the door that had just been opened moments previously.

"Kurosaki-kun?" she dared to whisper, wondering if it were true. She adjusted her towel, having just had a shower- the winds of Hueco Mundo weren't very kind to a lady's hair- and walked to the door. Before turning the handle, she stopped herself. _Don't fool yourself Orihime! Kurosaki-kun has no idea you're here! _She slowly let her hand fall to her side. Clenching it into a fist, she closed her eyes tightly and hurried back to the bathroom, taking her _old_ clothes with her.

Too many times had she heard his voice call to her the previous time she'd been taken. Too many times had she indulged herself into _just taking a quick peek_ to see if he were really there. She told herself it was foolish, and to just take things as they were. Surely he would find out about her kidnapping, but she couldn't even allow herself the hope that he would come for her. It had been bad enough the last time, and she would never wish for him to be harmed again.

She would be fine, and so would her Kurosaki-kun.

* * *

Ichigo leaned against the last door of the hallway and sighed. He let his butt crash to the floor and splayed his arms to his sides. He must have gone through one hundred doors and there was still no sign of his old friend. He drummed his fingers thoughtfully and impatiently against the impossibly clean white floor.

Just how big _was_ this place? The last time he'd come here he'd seen it from the distance, and sure it was huge, but..._this_ big? Maybe he'd just never really thought about trying to look behind every single door to find a friend of his, but surely if he did he'd never imagine it to be this big. He leaned his head back against the large door behind him and closed his eyes in thought.

After his initial rush of adrenaline and rebelliousness, he was left tired and limp. It was technically nearly dawn, he figured, back home. Not to mention he'd had a long day to begin with. Add that to running around Hueco Mundo in search for Orihime...and you wound up with a cross and fatigued Ichigo. He wondered vaguely what would happen at school tomorrow. He wondered if maybe Hat and Clogs had already found out, and was planning to rescue them.

Maybe, maybe not.

That guy was weird, and though he didn't necessarily weird him _out_, he was strange enough that Ichigo didn't really trust the guy. The only thing that he was really sure of was that he was on their side, but as for his motivation, Ichigo could only guess. This didn't mean Ichigo didn't like Hat and Clogs, or that he was any less grateful to him, it just made him wary.

He'd been sitting there for a time, drumming his fingers until they were numb when he began to notice footsteps again. He wondered idly who they belonged to and began to listen to them closely, making sure they weren't any threat to him. They seemed to be from far away, so Ichigo had time at least if the person was to notice him, but they were coming in his direction.

He listened to the echoing of the thatched footsteps slowly coming his way, tapping his index finger to the beat. He smiled tiredly to himself, slightly falling asleep against the cool temperature of the door, thinking of whom the footsteps belonged to.

They were relaxed, almost lazy footsteps. Clearly not knowing of what laid ahead, or maybe just not caring. It's not like Ichigo really planned on going anywhere, his mind was in such a hazy state that getting up wasn't a very thrilling prospect. If someone came across him, who cares? He thought to himself as he began dozing off. He'd kick their ass another day, a small sleepy voice told him, ushering him to dreamland.

Ichigo was nodding off, but suddenly the footsteps seemed a lot closer now. Again, it didn't matter. Ichigo was beat, and he knew that no one here wanted him dead unless he was a threat to them, which he _obviously_ wasn't now. And if they wanted a fight...well, they would wait their turn. A small chuckle emitted from above him; it sounded familiar to him, similar almost to an animal's cooing over their new found prey. He tried to open his eyes, but his lids were glued shut.

"Well, I suppose I should jus' take you back to yer room, hmm?" the voice sounded, somewhat dreamily from Ichigo's point of view. "Or maybe..." Ichigo didn't catch the rest, but he felt someone grab him the arm and hoist them over their shoulder. The blood in his body turned upside down and crept into his dull brain fairly quickly, efficiently and smoothly making its way into Ichigo's head, and causing him to become even more disoriented. "I haven't done anythin' bad for awhile. Guess this is my presen' for bein' so good."

* * *

Uryu began to grind his teeth. It was a bad habit, and he knew it, but all the same he couldn't help it. He ground his teeth harshly, and if there'd been a piece of steak between those molars it would have been ground into mincemeat by now.

"Ishida, calm down." Chad said level headedly.

"I _am_ calm." The young Quincy retorted. "Why would I be upset over something like this? It's only that stupid Ichigo getting himself into trouble again."

"And Inoue-chan." Chad interjected.

"And Inoue-san." He repeated dismally. He liked her, and she didn't deserve to have this happened to her. It was all Ichigo's fault. If it hadn't been for him she never would have been involved, if it hadn't been for him Aizen would never have seen her, if it hadn't been for him, she never would have been exposed to his tank-full of reiatsu and—

"You're grinding your teeth again." Chad said helpfully. Uryu sighed in annoyance. "So, should we contact Urahara-san then?" Uryu looked at Chad for a moment, calculating his position. Obviously, talking to Urahara wasn't merely a suggestion on Chad's part. He wanted this taken to the man immediately, and if Uryu didn't go along with it, then Chad would go at it alone.

Uryu sighed again, and dejectedly slapped a palm to his forehead.

"Very well," he sighed. "If it must be done, I'll come." Chad made no movement, but all the same Uryu looked at him sharply. "But don't think I'm doing this for that prat Ichigo. Inoue-san is a friend, and I won't have her being in the hands of some shinigami scumbag. Are we clear?"

Chad nodded solemnly, but raised his eyebrows a bit- a sure sign he was laughing internally. It was almost a joke how much Uryu hated Ichigo, but all the same, anyone who came into contact with Ichigo could never really _hate_ him. As much as Uryu hated to admit it, Chad knew that one day he would finally realize that he didn't hate Ichigo. He would find that he was insanely jealous of him.

* * *

Ichigo didn't remember getting new sheets, but it didn't really matter. They were so soft! He rumpled up a corner and stuck it under his head, resting on the fluffed up sheets with a small smile on his face. He wondered vaguely if he should pay attention to thread-count, like Yuzu always nagged him about. He stuck his nose into the fabric and inhaled, long and deep.

_Wait, that can't be right..._ Ichigo stopped inhaling the sheets and opened his eyes sleepily. His sheets were green, and these were black. Yuzu would never buy black sheets- she thought it was too morbid. Not to mention they didn't smell new. They smelled like someone...someone familiar. Cautiously, Ichigo stuck his nose in the sheets again and inhaled once more. They smelled like...like...

"Ichigo-kun...may I kindly ask what you're doing in my bed?"

Ichigo stiffened immediately and slowly looked up, drowsy eyes making out the bleary, yet clear enough, shape of Aizen.

_Shit.

* * *

_

Author's Note: Okay, so no explanation on the fam, but I figured you fangirls needed something to liven up the plot a bit. I don't think we'll see Ichigo get into any real trouble for another chapter or so, but it WILL happen. I'm a strong believer in Ichigo being stubborn and not 'taking it like a bitch'. Though admittedly for my purposes, and Aizen's altogether pwn-ing ability, he will be defeated. Don't worry, he'll kick another Arancar's ass at some point. Maybe Yammy's. -

I'm doing my best, but we all know that sometimes one's best isn't enough, so please CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM! It's very appreciated, in fact, I implore you to do so. Make me cry folks. The future of my writing abilities lies in your hands.

So seriously, tears. Make me bawl like a baby with no toys.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Aizen Sousuke looked at Ichigo with an expression which crossed amusement with irritation. It wasn't likely that Ichigo had made his way all around Hueco Mundo only to stumble into his personal room and bed, so that only led Aizen to think of a man he knew very well, with the tendency to go overboard with pranks.

_Ichimaru Gin,_ Aizen thought coarsely to himself. _You've outdone yourself with this one._

Ichigo slowly looked at Aizen from bottom to top, three times. Making sure what he was seeing was _in fact_ the traitor of the Soul Society, and that he was _in fact_, in his bed. Drowsy eyes were replaced with a sharp expression, one akin to a guppy that was caught in the cave belonging to an eel. His eyes were wide with shock and slowly making their way to the familiar look of horror Aizen usually received whenever he walked into a room. But under the look of horror, Aizen keenly noticed, was the beginning of an embarrassed blush. For some reason, Aizen found this very...

Interesting.

"...What?" was the dumb and meek response from the 17-year old captive. He obviously was still taking it all in. Aizen raised an eyebrow but said nothing, declining to take the initiative. The longer he waited, the more awkward the silence, and Aizen knew best that awkward silences always worked out best in the favor of the more dominant person in the room. And that would be him. Ichigo bolted from his lying pose suddenly, almost enough for Aizen to be surprised at and sat up straight as a lance, alert for anything that might come his way.

Ichigo took in a deep breath and shot over to the other side of the room.

Aizen frowned. He didn't even bother trying to remake the bed, selfish boy.

Ichigo breathed. In out, in out. Deep breaths that took up his entire lungs, and then some. He stared, wide eyed at Aizen and then flickered his glance warily at everything else in the room, feeling that if he wasn't cautious they would latch onto him and attempt to do something...unpleasant. He grabbed hold of the curtains behind him and held a breath. He could feel his face turning blue, but worse things were surely to come.

How did he get here?

What was he doing here?

What was he going to do?

What was Aizen going to do?

_How did he get here?!_ He smacked the back of his head to the wall behind him, but left it there attached to it. He couldn't move. Maybe if he didn't move, Aizen would forget he was here. It was a bad dream, he would wake up in his _own_ bed with his _lesser count _thread sheetsthat were _green._ He closed his eyes sharply, and stayed as still as possible.

"Ichigo-kun...you are aware...that I can see you?" Aizen said slowly, as if not quite believing it himself that a near adult still held onto the belief- _if I can't see you then you can't see me. _

Ichigo opened his eyes again and seeing the icy glare Aizen was staring him down with, he began to panic. He moved a bit, still facing Aizen, and tried to come up with another dumb plan. He frantically searched behind him for the window at his disposal. He searched and searched with his fingers to find a latch to which would open the window and lead to his escape, but he felt nothing. He gave Aizen a wary look, then turned around suddenly, looking hysterically for the window latch. Aizen would have laughed if he weren't so busy being astounded by this boy's brain functioning.

Is this how the boy always did things? Did he just have blind, stupid, insane, dumb _luck_ aiding him for the most part? Aizen looked at the frenetic teenager before him and chuckled. His chuckle grew louder until it reached a full blown laugh, aimed directly at the existence of the trembling and confused Kurosaki Ichigo.

Once Ichigo realized he was being laughed at he stopped fiddling with the window before him. For whatever the reason, Ichigo could just never stand to be laughed at. Perhaps it was all of those times that people had made fun of him unjustly and rudely for the color of his hair, or maybe he just had a bigger ego than he knew, but as far as Ichigo _did_ know he knew that every time someone had ever laughed at him, they had gotten the worse end of the painful stick.

Before Ichigo had turned around to face Aizen and put a stop to his laughter, Aizen was already at his side. Ichigo whipped out his arm, nearly striking Aizen across the face with a well aimed punch, but Aizen stopped it with his palm. He wrapped his hand around Ichigo's and continued to chuckle, softer now that he'd reached the peak of his amusement.

"So this is it? The secret to your strength and success is luck? How absurd." He said this mostly to himself, but Ichigo was in plenty of hearing distance, so he caught Aizen's words and wondered slightly what the importance was. Everything Aizen said had its worth, in some form or another. Somehow, Ichigo got the feeling that this wasn't going to be something that amounted to Ichigo's favor. "_Absurd._" Aizen said sharply and squeezed Ichigo's hand. Ichigo fidgeted and tried to take his hand out of Aizen's grip, but Aizen worked it to his advantage so that he now had a firm grasp on Ichigo's wrist.

Ichigo aimed a kick to Aizen's midsection, but due to Aizen's altogether better fighting skills and Ichigo's recently wakeful state, it didn't have much effect. Wordlessly, Aizen sighed and then slammed Ichigo face first into the wall behind him, holding his head to it, refusing to let him move. Ichigo's forehead was being forcefully- and painfully- held to the wall while Aizen thought about the current situation.

He'd allowed the boy to run free, and _this_ was all he was capable of? Aizen wasn't pleased. He'd imagined on setting a ravaged wolf out into his halls for entertainment, and the best he could come up with was to be fooled into getting into Aizen's bed?

He gripped the young man's wrist tight and pulled it slowly up his back. Ichigo winced but refused to cry out in pain, already he was in an embarrassing state and he wasn't planning on making it worse for himself.

"Is this the best you can do?" Aizen whispered predatorily to the young man below him. His breath made Ichigo shiver slightly, desperately wanting to inch himself away from the malicious aura growing steadily about the man. "I give you all of this freedom, and you decide to come here? Should I give you brownie points for coming into my lair? Or should I..." Aizen gripped his wrist tighter and Ichigo made a squeal of muffled pain, biting on his lower lip to stop himself from any further noises. "Do something else? You wanted a fight didn't you?"

"I wouldn't call this a fight." Ichigo bit out. Aizen looked down on him thoughtfully, and after a moment let him go. Ichigo stepped anxiously away from the older man but refused to rub his wrist. He searched around in vain for his sword, but found nothing.

Aizen stared at the sight before him. He could kill him, and just get it over with. He hadn't planned on having Ichigo stay very long anyway. He was an enemy, and a threat to Aizen's cause.

He'd only wanted Ichigo to cause enough trouble for Aizen to laugh about. He hadn't planned on..._this_. An ill-prepared _boy_ searching frantically about his own room trying to find a chunk of worthless metal he called part of his soul. An oversized butcher knife was hardly what Aizen called a zanpakutou, especially one whose only ability was to change Ichigo's fashion sense.

"Where's Zangetsu?"

"Who?" Aizen asked innocently. He'd seen the piece of junk lying on the floor next to him and had thrown it in his closet.

"Don't play innocent with me! What'd you do with Zangetsu?!" Ichigo was becoming very distressed now, and was beginning to lose his cool, or at least the very little he'd had up to this point.

"Is there a point to all of this? Either way I'm going to kill you. Why don't you just give up peacefully and I'll kill you mercifully." Aizen tried to rationalize with the boy, but Ichigo was hearing none of it.

"Where?! Where is it?!" he shouted, stance in a low fighting position, ready to jump at Aizen if the man so much as dared to take even one step closer.

Aizen sighed. He was finished with this. He reached out suddenly and faster than Ichigo could keep up with grabbed his front and threw him into the closet. The door gave way and broke in half as Ichigo's form was slammed into it. Ichigo was thrown directly into the closet and the first thing he noticed, other than his back hurt very much, was the sword leaning against the corner of the wall next to him.

"Happy? You have your precious Zangetsu."

Ichigo scoffed happily and picked up himself along with his sword, then he pointed it directly at Aizen and took a threatening step forward. "Yep." He grinned.

Aizen raised an eyebrow dubiously. Surely the boy was joking. He wouldn't seriously consider fighting Aizen after the incident in the Soul Society. He'd nearly sliced the boy in half, there's no way he'd even consider—

Aizen was wrong.

Ichigo yelled from the pit of his lungs and came at Aizen full of heart and fury. Aizen whipped around and held the base of Ichigo's back lightly. Ichigo followed Aizen's movements and slashed the sword down and behind him. It was still child's play for Aizen. He stepped out of the way and held the sword in a light grip.

"Kurosaki Ichigo. You are just about the dumbest human being I've ever encountered."

Ichigo scoffed. "Thanks." he simpered as he tried to remove his sword from Aizen's death hold.

"That wasn't a compliment." Aizen said flatly and hit Ichigo across the face with his fist. Ichigo staggered back a step, but again tried to remove his sword from Aizen's grip, failing unfortunately.

_Che,_ Ichigo thought to himself. _At this rate I won't make it out of here alive. I need space...somewhere where I have room..._If only he could get Aizen out of the room and into somewhere where had the chance to transform into his hollow self without the room imploding.

But first he needed his sword back.

Ichigo went through every possibility in his brain. He could barely budge the sword from Aizen's crazy glue hold, so Ichigo had no options there. There had been this one thing...it always worked on his father. He doubted it would work, and mentally slapped himself for his stupidity, but...

He took a deep breath and glared at Aizen. Suddenly he widened his eyes in shock and pointed to something behind Aizen.

"Look! A distraction!!" he shouted and frantically pointed.

Aizen became momentarily unfocused...How on earth could that work--?

It was for the barest of moments that Aizen Sousuke was so confused at Ichigo's beyond stupid thinking that it would work, that he let his grip of the young man's sword lax a bit. Ichigo pulled with all of his strength on the hilt of the sword and managed to actually get it out of Aizen's grip.

Before congratulating himself, Ichigo bolted out of the room faster than if he'd walked into his grandparents' room while they were having sex.

_Wow! I can't believe it worked! _Ichigo laughed relieved to himself.

_I can't believe it worked. _Aizen thought to himself. Minimally amazed that Ichigo had gotten away with such a third rate tactic. Of course, Aizen wouldn't fall for anything like that ever again.

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Ulquiorra moved his food tray down the hall quietly as ever, resuming his formal post of bringing the captive woman her food. He listened to the goings on around him and detected footsteps- hard, unnecessarily slapping the floor loudly –coming his way. He looked up from his lowered glance and settled on the figure that was about to walk past him.

"Grimmjow. I trust you took care of everything?"

"Keep your shirt on, I got it done just fine. The family's roughed up worse than a cat through a hairdryer. Yeah?"

"And his companions were notified—"

"Yeah yeah," the Sexta Espada waited for his superior's ramblings and lectures to finish. There was a bath in his quarters that was calling to him. Filthy earth pollution made him want to throw up.

"Very well." Ulquiorra stayed still as Grimmjow walked past him, noting that the other's footsteps seemed light on the marble after their little chat. That meant something had gone slightly off, Ulquiorra noted.

Oh well. Ulquiorra lowered his gaze again and began moving forward. It wasn't so bad that Grimmjow didn't look him in the eye, so for now Ulquiorra wanted to know nothing of it.

Grimmjow moved away from Ulquiorra quickly, wanting to get away from his ridiculously uptight subordinate. He scoffed lightly to himself.

Things hadn't gone _completely_ as planned, though technically he hadn't been given specific orders anyway. He had messed up the family to the extent of freaking them out all right, but before Grimmjow could do any _real_ damage, the Dad had made off with the daughters, high tailing it out of there before Grimmjow even had the chance to break an arm or two.

Grimmjow snorted indignantly. Whatever. He'd burned up part of the house and had blown up a few rooms while he was at it, so he'd done his job well enough. If Aizen-fucking-sama didn't like it he could just go the hell back and do it himself.

* * *

Author's Note: And such is Chapter 5. And (chuckle) about that (snicker) Ichigo thing (stifled laugh) I...I...

LOL. Sorry, but I really couldn't think of any other way for Ichigo to get his sword back from Aizen! I swear! I know that would probably never happen, but...well, you try finding a way for Ichigo to get out of Aizen's room. In one piece. With his sword. Yeah, it's hard stuff.

And yes, now you know what happened to the family. They're fine, maybe a bruise or two, but utterly unharmed in any other way.

But yes, in discussion of my statement in Chapter 3, I'm going to have Aizen fall in love 3 with Ichigo. Mwaha. Assuming of course Aizen doesn't rise from his 2-dimensional state and murder me horrifically. Which is almost plausible at this point. But it will take awhile, so be patient. He's not going to be stone-cold in love with Ichigo just after seeing him with his shirt off or something. Although I do plan a bath scene later on...

I'll leave that one to your imaginations for now.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Ichigo ran faster than his heart was beating- which was pretty fast. He was vaguely reminded of the time Zaraki Kenpachi had challenged him a second time, causing Ichigo to break a window in the process of his escape. He shook his head of old thoughts and continued down the hall, not even stopping to look behind him.

Aizen paused and looked at the door from which the representative Shinigami had bolted out of. He wondered whether it was really worth the trouble. He stared at the door with a contemplative stare, one that most would have looked upon and guessed he was merely reflecting on something. However, Aizen was really at a loss of what to think. Ichigo was the first toy he'd ever had that was stupid enough to lead Aizen in a chase.

Or maybe this was his game? Aizen leaned his weight on one foot and squinted at the door further still. For him to be so random...was it really possible? Was he truly just a walking serendipity? Aizen formed his mouth into a long grim line and headed towards the door, looking to the right, the way he'd seen Ichigo run.

He wouldn't go after him. He wasn't going to be the controlled one here. Ichigo would run and run and his strength would deplete, and that would be when Aizen would find him. Once he found the _boy_ he would kill him immediately. All of this trying to decipher his actions was giving Aizen a very much not-needed headache.

Aizen had had enough of this farce.

* * *

"Are you not hungry?" Ulquiorra asked patiently. Orihime refused to look at him. Or rather, she just chose not to. She gazed out the window with wistful, sad eyes and sighed. She clenched her hands and squeezed her eyes shut. Her head was so empty and her heart was so full she couldn't seem to do anything. "Why haven't you changed your clothing?" Ulquiorra tried again, and again she didn't answer.

Ulquiorra waited. If he did, she would tell him everything. Her hopes, her sadness, her feelings. It had been simple enough the last time she was here; he'd come to know much from her by just listening to her talk.

Ulquiorra waited silently, fists clenched to his sides. Orihime merely looked out of the window, imagining what today at school would have been like.

She would have run to Tatsuki happily and would have told her of the strange dreams she'd had the night before. She would have talked about her lunch, and how Tatsuki was fairing at the dojo. They would have mentioned Kurosaki-kun at some point, and Orihime would have hidden her blush. They would have walked home together and reflected on test answers, and they would have thought about the day to come.

Orihime wouldn't be telling anyone of the dreams she had here, because she never had any. She wondered just what you needed to be able to dream. She wondered if Arrancar dreamt at all.

"Ulquiorra-san?"

"Yes." he asked, voice firm.

"What do you dream about?" she was still gazing out of the window, but her eyes reached a point of clarity that told Ulquiorra she wanted an answer.

Ulquiorra continued to stare at her as well, eyes almost softening in near curiosity as to what made this woman's mind tick. She was a hostage once more, unaware that her companion was hardly a ten minutes walk from her own room, and she was wondering...what Ulquiorra dreamt at night? Was this her strange form of trying to keep things together, of trying to create a normal atmosphere around her? Perhaps she was finding a middle ground in all of this, Ulquiorra thought, deductions clicking in his brain to structure new ideas of the woman's behavior. Perhaps she wished to form some kind of alliance with Ulquiorra. What did they call it, friendship?

The word saturated inside of Ulquiorra's mind. He moved his thoughts around it, carefully trying to analyze and dissect the meaning of the term 'friendship'. He had thought that friendship was an effort of collaboration on the part of two beings in hopes of forming a coalition of amiable equal status, but to actually work his mind around the _suspicion_ that Inoue Orihime wished to be 'friends' with him...

Well, the idea was simply preposterous.

"Nothing in particular." He answered flatly and quickly, wanting the subject done and over with. "Will you eat now."

"But of what?" she asked, head slightly tilting towards him.

Ulquiorra's gaze nearly flickered in irritation. Just what was she expecting from him?

"Of...darkness." he answered, his unsure sentiments well hidden and undetectable in his answer. He did dream of darkness, in his dreams black was everywhere, but he'd never thought about it. As the words came out of his mouth, he wondered if it held any significance. Most likely not.

"Oh..." she sighed and lowered her head a bit. "How sad." She lifted her head back up and looked at Ulquiorra. His back was straight and his hands stiffly at his sides, taut and ready for any kind of threat that may come about randomly. His gaze was aimed full force on her, but unlike most times, she didn't cringe. Ulquiorra Schiffer was a man she'd almost come to know, and she knew that however threatening he might appear, he'd never intend to hurt her or allow any harm to come her way. His gaze wasn't meant to intimidate her, it was there because it had always been there.

She looked to the tray that waited before him and gave a small smile. "I don't suppose you have yakitori and Tabasco sauce, do you?"

* * *

Yammy wandered down the halls aimlessly. He'd forgotten where he was and where he'd been going. He stumbled about the halls, unflatteringly grumbling then shouting to himself, cursing the interlaced vines that were the halls of Las Noches. Yammy hated Las Noches. He also hated the Real World. Yammy hated a lot of things, and not often was it that he found something that he could stand without feeling the urge to smash it, or at least attempt to destroy it with his very large and capable hands.

Ulquiorra he could stand. He didn't like the guy, that was for sure, but he could stand being around him without wanting to slam the guy's face into the ground. He even didn't _not_ like him enough to take orders from his superior comrade. He hated Aizen-sama for sure, and Grimmjow he could never stand. He hated Szayel, and Noitora, and Aeroniro, and that bitch Halibel. To be sure he was glad when Luppi was killed- sure he couldn't stand Grimmjow, but that he-she was more than he could handle. He couldn't really remember the others, and the deceased's recent replacements, but that didn't matter. He never hung around them long enough to care about shit like that.

If Yammy had had the brains, he would have been able to smash every one of them. He would have crushed them under the weight of his iron fist and he would have bitch-slapped them into the next afterlife. But of course, Yammy was never one to be gifted in the intelligence department and everyone was aware of this. Yammy himself knew to a certain extent of this truth; he knew it to the extent that if he did try to kill any one of his higher ranking comrades, he would have his ass handed to him in the form of a truck-load of ash. So Yammy stayed away from them all and kept his abnormal blood lust for those that irritated him under control. Even the stupid have their survival instincts, and Yammy was taught from the time he first became a lesser hollow, to never go against something that was stronger than yourself.

Unless you were really, really angry, and part way suicidal.

* * *

Ichigo slid and headed down another hall, wondering just how long he'd been running. It could have been seconds or hours, but Ichigo figured it was probably more like ten minutes.

It always worked out like that.

Ichigo paced his breathing and finally worked his way into turning slightly to look behind him, just to see if his enemy was following. He turned and much to his relief saw that there was no Aizen Sousuke behind him. He part-laughed part-sighed his relief, and then slammed into something hard and soft at the same time.

He was instantly thrown to the ground, and out of instinct threw his hands behind him and slapped them to the floor, rolling over and thrusting up again, back to land on his feet. He looked forward to see just what kind of wall he'd hit.

Of course, much to Ichigo's luck, he hadn't hit a wall. He'd hit the Tenth Espada right smack dab in the center of his large stomach. Yammy frowned down at Ichigo, not quite processing what had just taken place, only knowing that there was something in his way that wasn't before. He wasn't sure whether or not to take offense at this sudden action of Ichigo slamming into him, so he stared Ichigo down, thinking that if he stared long enough it would get some kind of confession out of him.

It worked for Ulquiorra.

"Uuuuhh?" Yammy commented intelligently. Ichigo moved sideways a step, not sure whether to take this as a warning or just confused babble. If Ichigo had been in a rational state of mind, he would have been quick to his feet and would have passed the harmless lump of dead meat. But Ichigo was angry.

Ichigo was angry for being toyed with, and for having his way blocked. He shouldn't have to move around the fat lout, the fat lout should be moving out of _his_ way. But here he was, the Tenth Espada discombobulated and drooling in front of Ichigo, with a look that Ichigo could only think of as a look someone might have during the middle of a very intense and painful crap.

So Ichigo took Yammy's reluctance to move and his strange obnoxious comment as a sort of threat and proceeded to charge the large elephant of a soul with his zanpakutou.

Yammy didn't even widen his eyes as Ichigo lifted his sword in a motion to cut him down, but just as suddenly brought his arm up and bucked it harshly against it.

Ichigo groaned sharply and arrogantly charged in for a second attack.

"You want a fight huh? About freaking TIME!!" he shouted to Yammy and slashed his sword across Yammy's chest. Yammy brought up his arm in defense and Ichigo slashed that instead. He backed away, standing a few yards from the newly injured man. Yammy looked to Ichigo, then to his wound. Thick blood dripped down Yammy's arm and slowly fell to the floor in a steady rhythm. Yammy looked to Ichigo again, and his gaze turned into a glower.

Yammy remembered the kid. He remembered that he defeated Grimmjow. But he hadn't beat Yammy. He hadn't beat Yammy, and even though this was before he got some super special new powers, that didn't matter to the dumb Tenth Espada. The only thing that went through his limited brain powered thoughts was, _He never beat __**me**_.

"Alright kid. I'm gonna hand your ass to you. And that's gonna be followed by your arms, your legs, and that ugly little orange head of yours. So get ready punk. Cause I'm gonna show you a real fight."

Ichigo stepped his left foot back and pointed his obnoxiously long sword at his new enemy.

"Bring it on fool."

* * *

Aizen walked down his halls with his usual air of cockiness mixed with authority. Of course it wasn't necessarily _cockiness_, Aizen insisted, it was more...self-respected awareness than anything else.

His feet dropped before him as though a long red carpet was just ahead, making sure that each step was deliberate and timed perfectly with the speed of the rolling carpet. A small indescribable smirk was placed across his face, like that of a famous celebrity hogging all of the paparazzi to himself.

All of the glory rested on Aizen's shoulders, just like it was meant to, and would always be. It was this sense of self-righteousness that gave Aizen the power to do as he wished in this land of malevolent and directionless hollows. It gave Aizen the power to rule over these lands as though they were his own. And they _were_ his own. He'd taken them by his own power and he owned everything in them as well.

Which was why it was perfectly all right that he was now on his way to kill Kurosaki Ichigo.

It was only natural. The boy was of no use to him, now that Aizen was perfectly aware of the boy's capabilities to the fullest as well as his determinant status. Ichigo was boring him, and was no longer a necessary asset to Aizen's purpose. If Ichigo wasn't going to be of any use to Aizen, then there was no need to fool anyone into thinking that this arrangement was a permanent one. So offing Ichigo was really a favor he was doing them all.

He began nearing his destination when he happened to feel a certain familiar presence hovering about him discreetly, like a fox blending into the red walls of a hen house.

"Gin, I'm glad I've run into you." Aizen voiced coolly. "I want to ask just what your thought process was in the midst of bringing that _boy_ into my room?"

A small chucked emanated at his side.

"Ah, I was only a li'l bored. An' it's not like any real harm came about now did it?" he smiled innocently, or as innocently as a well known and caught prankster could.

"I suppose not. Though I am off now to go and kill him."

"Mmm, too bad. Jus' when things were startin' to get int'resting." Gin twirled a little in his stance and chuckle to himself. "What a shame."

"Interesting you say?" Aizen began to find himself intrigued enough to inquire about it. "What news have you heard."

"Well, my sources tell me that right now he's fightin' Yammy. Barreling down the halls with that marvelous cleaver. They're headed to the Throne room right now, matter of fact."

Aizen said nothing. He looked at his companion cautiously and once again resumed his pace toward Ichigo.

This time with a new purpose.

* * *

Author's Note: Yay, another chapter done. Next chapter is going to have Ichigo fighting Yammy and another person (but that'll be a secret. ).

I'm not sure right now if I want Tousen in here or not, but if I do (like Yammy) it'll really just to be for the purpose of convenient interaction and of course making fun of him. In case you didn't notice, I don't like Yammy, nor do I think he's very smart.

I think the scene between Ulquiorra and Hime-sama was okay, if a bit cheesy and overdramatic. I may re-edit it at some point, but who knows if it'll really do anything. I decided to make her a bit more mature, after all, she's been here before so she knows some of the ropes at least. She's not completely innocent anymore. She's wary of her situation and goes about it accordingly.

And once again I disappoint many in that there is no smut. Aizen doesn't think of Ichigo that way yet, and won't for awhile to come. Good things take time you know- patience is a virtue. Though I'd be a bit embarrassed to write smut anyway.

I think this note is too long. Whatever. Reviews are nice, but don't feel pressured. Have a good day :)


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Ichigo smiled. Finally he was getting a fight he wanted. All of the pent up anger was beginning to flush out of his system as Yammy came at him with another boisterous punch aimed to take Ichigo's head off. Ichigo was glad Yammy was trying to kill him. If Yammy was going easy on him, he would be more pissed than he had been ten minutes ago when he'd been 'misplaced' in Aizen's bed.

For now he was taking it easy. Yammy wasn't even in his league anymore, Ichigo happily noted. He smirked at the oversized Arrancar and whipped his oversized sword at his head. Yammy ducked and came at Ichigo again with his fists.

Yammy flew over Ichigo with all of his weight and tried to overpower him by bringing his fists downward at a rate very near shun-po. However, it was only _near_ shun-po. Ichigo dodged it with an ample amount of time in that he was able to run around Yammy and bring his sword from waist-height to Yammy's head. Yammy, being the large loaf he was, didn't have enough time to move his weight around and ended up getting a good sized cut on his abdomen. Yammy grumbled something unattractive and very insulting to Ichigo but continued on, ignoring the blood that spilled onto his clean white uniform. He resumed his business of attempting to go through with doing what he always loved to do- smash those he hated. Unfortunately for Yammy, Ichigo _was_ much more skilled than him now. Ichigo frustratingly dodged every one of Yammy's well aimed, but slow attacks. He skittered away from his huge frame with the grace and speed Yammy would never have so long as he continued to eat as he did.

Yammy yelled out in anger and turned his whole body with the force of his next punch.

"Ha! Is this it?!" yelled Ichigo from his new height-- on Yammy's shoulder. Yammy brought his hand down on his shoulder and Ichigo moved, causing Yammy to hit himself and wince as he felt his shoulder fall out of place forcefully. "_This is what I was waiting for?!_" he shouted and brought his sword down onto Yammy once more. It cut open Yammy's jaw a bit, and ended up cracking the lower jaw bone Yammy sported. Yammy screamed out in one last glorified acknowledgement of his anger, then slammed his fist to the ground. He tried to get up again, but Ichigo staked his arm to the ground. Yammy tried to swat Ichigo, but the teen grabbed his sword again and moved deftly out of harm's way.

"Are we finished here?" he asked, large angry frown covering most of his face. Ichigo needed to stretch his limbs, and the Tenth Espada just wasn't doing it for him. Yammy gave a smoldering look to Ichigo, glaring daggers at him from under his frizzy eyebrows. Ichigo stared back with irritated apathy. Ichigo was angry: angry for being a captive, angry for not being able to find his friend, and angry for not getting the fight he deserved. And he _did_ deserve a good fight.

He'd just been forced to leave his family and friends without one, he'd run through the halls for over an hour in the beginning without finding a good one, and he'd been forced to _again _leave Aizen without being able to even hit the guy without fear of being torn to tiny bits.

Ichigo had once again worked up his anger to an all time high and his nerves were adding coals to the flames faster than anyone was throwing water on them. Ichigo had gotten his mojo back, and he wanted to Work. Off. Steam.

* * *

"So what's the story then?" 

"Okay, so Jack and Jill run up the hill to fetch some water, and then they end up rolling down the hill and break, like, every bone in their body."

"The hell? What's the point to that?"

"It's like, you're not supposed to run up a hill without permission or something."

"Huh?"

"Well, if they'd told someone they were going up the hill to get water, then they would have someone down at the bottom of the hill ready to catch them and everything. You see?"

"Huh?"

Naux sighed dramatically. "Come on Grimmjow, it isn't _that_ hard to understand."

"Maybe for someone with a messed up brain." He scoffed. Grimmjow just didn't get shit like that. What the hell kind of people made up shit like this anyway? he wanted to know. If he ever met someone so stupid as to come up with a 'moral' story like that he'd beat the living shit out of them, that's for sure.

"Whatever. They're just stupid human stories anyway. Mother Goose has a bunch of 'em. And the Grimms' Brothers tales? I bet you'd like those."

"Grimm huh? What stories they got?"

"Heh. Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Duh you idiot, or else I wouldn't be asking."

"Shut up." Naux took a large step and then ran a few more, getting in front of Grimmjow and walking directly in front of him, only backwards. "So there's this one, and it's way freaky. It's about some chick who loses her _hands_."

"I lost a fucking arm. How much worse can it be?" Grimmjow asked sharply, wincing slightly at the memory of Tousen slicing and incinerating his left arm. By _Tousen_ of all people.

"Way worse. Cause then she gets, like, burned." Grimmjow gave Naux his best smoldering glare and shoved her aside. "Oh right. Sorry."

"Shove it up your ass."

"Ah come on, I didn't mean it." She apologized lamely and continued with her remarkable retellings of fairy tales and fables. "So like, then there's this chick who gets her eyes gouged out."

"Ugh."

"Yeah. And there's the boy with no legs, and all bunch of crazy stuff like that. Seriously, I should let you borrow the books. They make for some great ideas." She grinned maliciously and sidled back to her position next to Grimmjow. Grimmjow didn't like the chick or anything, he'd made that clear the first day she'd been made by kicking her ass for no other reason than that she looked at him funny. She was made to be the new 8th Espada, created after the whole Ichigo and Co. breaking into Hueco Mundo scandal, where many of Grimmjow's 'compatriots' were killed off like flies.

He didn't like her, she actually annoyed the hell out of him, but she half-worshipped the ground he walked on, so how could he deny her for his pride's sake? Admittedly she was more interesting than some others, and she wasn't a bad conversation tool, but all the same Grimmjow kept some distance, wary that she might just be after his position. After Luppi, he wasn't being over cautious. Of course he'd kick her ass if she tried anything like that. Grimmjow was cleaning the wax from his ear as she rambled on about her dumb obsession with stealing things from humans down in the real world when he felt something familiar. He stopped to a dead halt and she paused with him.

"You feel that?"

"What?"

"_That_, you idiot. That reiatsu." Grimmjow slowly began to smile. He knew that reiatsu, he'd know it anywhere. Suddenly he broke out into a complete run.

"Hey! What the hell?" Naux shouted, but came along like a stray thread on a new tee-shirt.

_Kurosaki Ichigo, you asshole! _Grimmjow grinned maniacally to himself. _I'm gonna tear your ass to shreds this time!

* * *

_

"Too bad." Ichigo sighed, slinging his sword onto his shoulder. He realized by now that he just wasn't going to get anything from fighting Yammy, so why bother? He began walking away when a huge roar went off behind him.

Yammy slammed his fist against the ground and glared at Ichigo with wild widely opened eyes. "Get over here! I ain't finished with you, you stupid little--!!"

"Save it." Ichigo voiced over him. Yammy growled some more, but Ichigo didn't feel like truly sticking around to complete the job. He didn't want to really _kill_ anyone, Ichigo never killed people, he only wanted to vent his anger. Ichigo got about two steps further when something whipped at his sides. A flash of purple light blinded him and he only barely managed to dodge it as it flew past him, hitting the wall and causing a large portion of it to crumble to the floor, now wet with sweat and blood from the previous tiff Ichigo had gotten himself into.

Ichigo flew back a few more steps and balanced himself, feet fairly close and ready to spring again if need be.

"So you are here. I'd hoped to find you before you caused too much ruckus." He heard a voice near him, but saw nothing. He looked around, trying to catch a glimpse of the new person to no avail.

"Who are you?!" he shouted. "You want a fight I'll give you one!" he reached for his sword, but once again a bright flash of light came his way causing him to stop his action and roll on the floor away from a sure demise.

"How unsightly." The voiced came about again, slightly lower in volume, but higher in irritation.

It didn't sound particularly familiar to him, so he didn't expect to see a familiar face to go along with it. He turned around and swung his sword around with him, hurling it in the direction of where the sound emitted.

"Kurosaki Ichigo. You are causing a disturbance. If you continue to act accordingly, I will have to remove you."

"Then start fighting!" Ichigo shouted, smile growing at the thought of a better fight. "'Cause I'm not going anywhere!"

"Then it seems I have no choice." From seemingly nowhere, Ichigo saw lo and behold in front of him Tousen Kaname, former captain in the Soul Society. Tousen had his usual face, blank eyes attempted to smolder him with a glare that couldn't exist. His eyebrows furrowed in irritation and self-righteousness and his sword was held out to Ichigo as a warning. "Kurosaki Ichigo, prepare yourself."

"Ha! I'm as prepared as I need to be!" he retorted and held his own sword before him, grinning wickedly and waiting for the fight to begin.

Tousen frowned. "You are more anxious for a fight than I had hoped. I cannot allow this disturbance—"

"Would you just fight already?!" Ichigo grumbled impatiently, cutting off the complacent man with his eagerness.

Tousen frowned even further, and it slightly reminded Ichigo of his old homeroom teacher used to give out. The teacher that was later arrested for sexually harassing one of the students. And that was middle school.

"So be it." He muttered softly and readied his sword. "Suzumushi nishiki! Beni-hiko!" Tousen threw the direction of his attack at Ichigo bluntly, and a large blow of reiatsu channeled itself to Ichigo. Tousen sat back a moment. He really wasn't completely sure of the capability of his attack on Ichigo. It hadn't worked on the horrible man Zaraki, and Ichigo had technically defeated that man. But for all Tousen had guessed it could have very well been beginner's luck. He waited for a few seconds, and when he was finally sure that he'd at least knocked the boy out he stepped forward. He walked towards the smoky area of rubble and dust, but felt something flicker to his right. He turned about curiously, surely it wasn't the boy, he thought.

"Don't insult me with such weak attacks!" Ichigo shouted above him and landed where Tousen had just been standing, sword thrust downward at an attempt to take the man's head off. Ichigo trembled slightly, not from fear, but from the adrenaline rush. His mind was telling him he was going too far. He didn't really want to hurt anyone. But that voice was drowning out forever slowly, overtaken by the dominating voice that wanted Ichigo to fight everything that came at him with a pointed object. He was going too far, he knew, but _so what_? He couldn't stand much more of this. There was no real purpose for him to be here, so why wait around until they came at him? Why wait until the enemy was ready? His real mission was to get out alive, and with Orihime, not wait around like a good little boy and 'let the master hold the leash'!

Ichigo threw himself around and slashed his sword, striking the wall behind Tousen rather than the man himself. Tousen whirled around and attempted another blast to Ichigo, but again he quickly dodged.

_I must end this quickly. _Tousen thought to himself, and made to do so.

"Bankai." He muttered softly, almost to himself, then louder. "Suzumushi Tsuishiki...Enma Korogi!"

* * *

Grimmjow halted, followed by Naux slamming into his back. She complained with a disgruntled squeak but Grimmjow took no notice. He had been advancing when a black balloon-like object spread from Tousen's sword, encompassing both Tousen and Ichigo. The black balloon sputtered out indignantly and squeezed itself shamelessly into every orifice it could manage. Grimmjow cursed the fat black thing—and by that he meant Tousen. He was steamed that he couldn't watch the fight. Grimmjow grit his teeth and shook his fists. Fucking _Tousen_! He shouted in his head. If he had the option he'd cut off Tousen's genitals and feed them to him in one big bite. Or small one probably, in Grimmjow's opinion. Assuming the bastard even _had_ genitals on the outside to cut off. Grimmjow simmered on the sidelines, glaring with anger and envy at the blinding balloon- well, Yousen's bankai was more like him than Grimmjow had thought- as inside the space Tousen readied himself to complete the task of finishing his battle.

_Fucking Tousen_. _Fucking_ Tousen. _Fuck Tousen. Fuck Fuck Tousen. Fuck _you_ Tousen! _ Grimmjow screamed and flurried about in his own mind; fuming and muttering and cursing Tousen till Kingdom Come.

Tousen wipe the dust off of his used sword, polishing it on his long coat before turning to the stationary Ichigo. Slowly the muscles in Ichigo's body moved, tensing here and loosening there. Ichigo had no idea what the fuck was going on and it _killed_ Grimmjow for not being able to take advantage of it.

Grimmjow continued to look at the visual-purging _thing_ with hate as Naux stood beside him in slight disarray. She had no idea what the _fuck_ was going on.

* * *

Author's Note: I swear, Naux is NOT a Mary Sue. I just felt like the plot could use a nice comic relief character, and I also thought it would be nice to get another girl in the level of Espada. Female power. We won't be seeing her much, like I said, just for some comic relief. I'm not pairing her with Grimmjow or anyone else, they just happen to be very compatible concerning future events. Her name is pronounced however you feel comfortable. I pronounce it 'knocks', but 'no' works too. Actually, that could be really fun. "No, Naux no!" Ha, funny. And yeah, 'm aware that's not actually the way the Jack and Jill story goes, so fyi that was purposely done. 

So next chapter will be more fighting and 'da da da duh!' more plot. Originally this was just going to be Ichigo staying because Aizen vaguely wanted him too, but now I'm not sure Aizen would really think of Ichigo worth all that trouble just to satisfy his own little whim. I think Aizen would feel it more important to accomplish his goal (case in point, I don't think he actually liked Hinamori Momo all that much, but he needed her, so...).

So I've found a way in which Ichigo can serve a purpose, and hopefully I'll get to that in the next chapter. You'll at least get a glimpse of it, though it may not be fully explained.

And thanks Fierygirl0 for correcting my mistake in that Tousen's bankai is that black blob-y thing that doesn't allow anyone access to the lamest power ever. I'm not saying I could stand a chance, but I would totally kick his butt. ;P Poor Grimmy. Oh well, at least he doesn't know what he's missing.

I think that's all the necessary explanations. Ciao for now. :)


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Tousen whipped out his sword in front of him and faced Ichigo with a clam sort of determination. The young man had had enough fun for the day, so Tousen readied himself to take Ichigo down and carry him back to his room.

Well, maybe Yammy could do it. Tousen's back was hurting lately.

He spoke no words, feeling it unnecessary seeing as Ichigo could neither hear him speak or read his lips- not to mention he didn't want to speak with the neighboring Espada around to hear his breathless voice- so he walked briskly over to him and swung out his sword slashing Ichigo's arm.

"Woah!" Ichigo brought his sword up and swung randomly, feeling a sharp pain and fluid running down his arm. It wasn't anything to be concerned about, really just a light cut, if long, but Ichigo wasn't just going to give up. He tensed even more than before and scowled in the darkness, wondering just what this Bankai was. He couldn't see, hear, or smell. He licked his upper lip and tasted the salt of his sweat, mentally nodding to himself. He could still taste and feel, so he had those two at least. He scoffed to himself. What a waste! Only managing to get rid of three senses? Two were all he needed to defeat this pansy of an ex-captain. Zaraki had told him of this fight in detail when in the infirmary, so defeating Tousen was really just a matter of following the blueprint Kenpachi Zaraki had told him.

If only he could remember it.

Tousen lashed out a Ichigo again, nicking his face as Ichigo dodged slightly at the feel of the blade on his skin. Tousen muttered something a bit undignified for someone of his self-righteousness and came at Ichigo again. Ichigo bent over backwards, much to Tousen's surprise. He made a bridge with his body and came back up again, like a jack-in-the-box and swung in the general direction of where the hit had come from. Tousen easily scampered out of the way and came in again, feeling assured in that this would be his last blow. This time Ichigo knelt down, causing Tousen to nearly trip over the young rapscallion as he had begun to charge Ichigo from behind. When Tousen was directly over him, Ichigo shot back up into standing position, and keenly hit Tousen in the chin with the top of his head.

_How is this?!_ Tousen thought to himself, completely shocked. He had only hit Ichigo twice, barely, and Ichigo was avoiding all of his other attacks. He was even getting in some of his own! How was it that this boy was evading all of his attacks without even being hit?

Ichigo spat on the ground and smiled to himself. _Easy as pie_. He cooed to himself and waited once again for Tousen to come at him. He only remembered for Zaraki that he'd been able to feel, and not quite seeing how his own sense of taste would help him in battle, Ichigo stuck to that. One way would be to let Tousen attack him, thereby knowing his exact position and striking him hard and heavy with one blow. But Ichigo wasn't as much of a sado-masochist as Zaraki, and decide to take another course: wind. They were both in an enclosed large area, where the pressure was light and consistent, but with the 'raging' battle that was taking place, Ichigo could easily feel Tousen whipping around him without his other senses distracting him.

_To the right._ sure enough a breath of wind came at Ichigo from the right, attempting now to slice open his chest. He jumped to the side and let the wind pass before him. _I got you now!_ He thought happily, and brought his sword over his head.

"Getsuga TENSHOU!!" he lashed it before him and brought it down on the blind man. His enormous attack did its work to incinerate much of Tousen's thick clothing as well as knock off his glasses. Tousen landed flat against the wall as the attack continued to eat away at him, knowing on his skin like poisonous ants, biting and painfully spreading out along his flesh, trying to devour him whole.

How could this possibly happen? Tousen asked himself weakly. In such a short amount of time this boy had surpassed _him_? A former captain in the Soul Society? Of course he'd beaten others, Zaraki and Byakuya-however unofficially- but to defeat Tousen? In so short a time? Tousen just couldn't believe the strength this boy had mustered against him. If only the boy had thought of his true place, then there would be no need for Aizen to kill him.

_What a pity_. Tousen thought to himself as he leaned back against the crushed wall, relaxing in his position and letting the knowledge of defeat sink in and ease his muscles. Tousen released his bankai with the last of his strength and collapsed to the floor.

With his vision once gain intact, Ichigo looked to the man on the floor and walked over carefully, making sure he was in fact still alive. A dizzying gash covered the top of Tousen's head, and looking at it closer Ichigo could actually see through the man's skull and into his brain. Blood oozed from the crevice and began to clot through his hair. Ichigo stepped back, and then forward again, coming to his knees to get a closer assessment. He was alive, he could see him breathing, but he must be in immense pain Ichigo though to himself softly. He didn't blame himself for it, neither did he blame Tousen- they'd been fighting after all, they both knew the consequences- but he didn't wish for this man's death. Especially such a painful one. He inched forward on his knees, coming as close to the man as he dared. Tousen's breathing was labored, it echoed throughout the room and called for Ichigo to _do_ something, _help_ the poor man. Ichigo furrowed his eyebrows lightly and continued to look down on the pitiful creature, dying before him. He never wanted to _kill _anyone.

"Dammit." He muttered under his breath and ripped off part of his hakama. He looked around, and seeing a familiar face-however unfriendly- he was quick to jump for help. "Grimmjow! Get a paramedic or something!"

"Why?" Grimmjow asked lazily. Due to certain past events, Grimmjow wasn't completely against the idea of the man on the floor kicking the bucket. _Finally_.

"Dammit Grimmjow, don't be such and ass! Get some help in here! He'll die!" Ihcigo bellowed pressing the cloth on Tousen's head, hoping it would so some good. He knew applying pressure was a good thing, and though his father was a doctor, that wasn't to say he knew exactly what he was doing.

"Forget it man. I ain't moving." Ichigo growled frustratingly, and looked to the girl at Grimmjow's right.

"Hey! Get someone would ya please?!" he was impatient and frustrated, Naux could easily see, and with his sudden display of power, she wasn't about to get in his way. She nodded quickly and ran in the direction of the infirmary. "Dammit! Dammit Dammit Dammit!" Ichigo muttered continuous profanities under his breath as he tried to stop the flow of blood from the man's head, but already the cloth was soaked through. Ichigo threw it down and ripped another piece off of his clothing. "Work dammit! Don't die on me, you hear? I'm in enough trouble as it is, and I don't need a dead man on my conscience." He muttered softly and continued to administer pressure to the open wound.

"Why the hell're you doin' that?" Grimmjow called from his corner. He leaned against the wall languidly and watched Ichigo with the mild interest a cat has when watching a dog dig a very large hole into the grass.

"'Cause if I don't, he'll _die_." Ichigo retorted sharply and did his best to ignore the espada. He wasn't so much concerned with Grimmjow attacking him right now than distracting him.

"So?" he replied callously, and Ichigo grumbled under his breath.

"Chyeah, and I bet you didn't appreciate it when I saved _you_ last time." Ichigo said this mostly to himself, but Grimmjow's sharp ears caught it.

"You didn't save _anyone_ last time. Your little friends from that other hell came and saved your ass. So I suggest you stick to doing what you do best and get up off your ass and just _fight_ me." Grimmjow stepped away from his corner and glared at Ichigo. Ichigo turned his head slightly, looking at the Espada from the ground as he held his palms to the head of his former opponent.

"Save it Grimmjow. Now isn't the time."

"What better time? I ain't got nothin' to do and neither do you."

"In case you've been blinded for some inexplicable reason, maybe you fail to notice the nearly dead man at my knees here." Ichigo yelled angrily.

"Get off it and forget it. Stop being such a lame martyr and get off your ass. You don't wanna save him. You don't wanna save shit, so why do it? You wanna fight me, so _do it._" Ichigo turned back to his focus, the focus of Tousen. His breathing was becoming lighter, and Ichigo knew that to be a bad sign. Where was that chick already? How long did it take to get a healer or something? "Come off it asshole. Why be such a good boy all the time if it only every gets you in lame shit like this? Huh?! Fight me! We'll see who's got real guts right here and now! Leave the shit bag to rot! You want to right! He'd do no more for you!" Ichigo slumped his shoulders, intent drawn on Tousen's head. Grimmjow frowned and snarled, he hated being ignored. "You can't save shit! Why try!? You can't save shit and you know it! You're just sitting there pretending you think you can! You just wanna feel good about yourself when the guy croaks, so at least _you tried_. Well let me tell you again dumb-fuck, _you can't save shit!_"

Heat burned under Ichigo's skin and he could feel some kind of power bubbling up to the top of his head. It came up and around his head, boggling his mind with some kind of hazy euphoria and at the same time, a clear confidence Ichigo had begun to lack. His fingers trembled slightly and he dropped the soiled cloth, his hands momentarily leaving the blood to run free and wild through Tousen's hair and onto the floor where it mixed with Ichigo's trembling knees. Instantly his mind was brought again to reality and aware of his neglect he pressed his hnds into Tousen's head, forgetting about rippin any more of his hakama. He pressed onto the wound and heat filled his hands. _Heal, dammit, heal!_ He commanded, and whether God had heard him or not, something had answered his prayers. Before his eyes he saw a glow of light lavender come under his hands it spread out over the man's head and much to the utter shock of both Ichigo and Grimmjow, Tousen's skin began to morph back into an attached mesh of flesh.

"What the--?" Grimmjow's bright blue eyes widened from resentment to astonishment. Ichigo looked almost as dumbfounded as he did, if not more so. Ichigo didn't move. His first instinct was to leap away from it all, but he couldn't risk it stopping suddenly and Tousen dying. Apparently what was happening was good news for the man on the ground. Ichigo watched in semi-horror as the glow from beneath his hands worked its way through the wound and cleansed it properly. It wound was slowly but efficiently closing the gap that allowed Ichigo clear visual access to Tousen's brain. In only a few minutes time, Tousen's gaping rip was no more than a memory, now covered by a pale brown scar. It wasn't completely erased like Orihime's ability, but it was almost similar. Ichigo didn't know what to think, and luckily for him something happened that enabled him to not have to.

"Grimmjow." A resolute voice came from behind Ichigo, but he didn't need to lift his head to see who it was. "Perhaps you should take a walk. Naux, go with him." the girl Ichigo had sent off to find help looked at Grimmjow with big apologetic eyes, but the look of indescribable malice was easily detectable in Grimmjow's scrunched up face. He growled low and deep and headed back, leaving in the direction from which he had come. A small crew of lesser arrancar replaced the two, taking the mysteriously healed Tousen and leaving Aizen and Ichigo in the same room alone. Ichigo felt his back tense as Aizen's footsteps came to him.

"Well Ichigo-kun, how long have you been hiding this from us? Hmm?" Aizen inquired, voice tipped to something that made Ichigo wary of the situation. That Aizen was towering over him, and Ichigo was on his knees.

"Don't know what you mean." he replied softly, a bit of arrogance still detectable.

"Come now, you don't expect me to believe that you suddenly developed a new skill for the sake of my comrade and _your enemy_...now do you?" Aizen's voice was wonderfully amiable, affable to the point where his sugary voice made Ichigo cringe with suspicion.

"I don't expect you believe anything." He responded, eyes glaring up at him with a sort of determination Aizen would only ever describe as youthful rebelliousness.

"I see." Silence rested between the two like fog on the Gettysburg front. Both sides taut and ready for battle, a battle one side would surely lose. One stood on firm, safe ground, looking at he other with an indescribable sense of wonder, the other rested on his knees looking up at his gate between this hell and his home. "Won't you stand?" Aizem asked, voice soft enough that Ichigo was surprised he'd heard it at all.

"I'm good thanks." He mumbled, never taking his eyes away from the brown orbs that seemed to think he was so above him, so much better. And terribly enough, Ichigo could hardly argue.

"Hmm." Aizen smiled. It wasn't his fake 5th captain smile, the smile that had given those around him comfort and Hinamori a run for her money, not the smile he used to intimidate his minions and while torturing Grimmjow. It was a smile one could say belonged to Ichigo alone. Not of deceit or predatory, but of amazement. In every shape and form, Kurosaki Ichigo just never seemed to stop fascinating him. in every shape and form, Kurosaki Ichigo was _interesting_.

And it had truly been a long time, since Aizen found something this interesting, that he could afford to keep around.

"Well then," he sighed softly and raised his head a bit. Ichigo tilted his own, suspicious of the man in every move he made. "You can feel free to get up as you wish. After all, you'll be staying with us for quite some time." Aizen smiled again and began to walk away.

Ichigo's heart began to pound. _What?_ He thought, outraged and stunned simultaneously.

"What do you mean by that?" he shouted, getting to his feet and staring down the man's back. "What do you mean I'll be here for some time?!" Aizen looked back, giving Ichigo only a side view of the mistrustful man.

"Well, a power like that would go to waste with the Soul Society. Think of it this way: you'll be much more appreciated here."

Once again Ichigo found it hard to breathe. He found it hard to see too, and hear. Aizen had told him he'd be here for a very long time. A long time and Aizen was expecting Ichigo to aid him. Ichigo gave a new look to Aizen, one mixed with hate and betrayal and loss. Ichigo tightened his muscles and picked up his sword.

There was no way in hell he was going to take this lying down.

* * *

Author's Note: Okay. Done with chap 8. So Ichigo's new ability will be explained soon, and you can count on seeing Uryu and Chad again, it's been awhile since I wrote about them. They need to join the party- the more the merrier. :)

I feel so bad!! I'm so sorry for making Grimmjow the bad guy!! Poor poor Ichigo-chi! But it needed to be done, so don't hate Grimmjow, he was only salvaging his pride the only way he knew how. Poor baby, I'm being so evil. Except I don't apologize for what happened to Tousen- he had it coming (/he only had himself to blame, if you'd a been there, if you'd a seen it, I betcha you would have done the same/). Man, I need to lay off the musicals. I've been listening to Dreamgirls and the 1957 Broadway production of Cinderella starring the wonderful and amazing Julie Andrews. To be honest, I actually like the guy in the 5 dollar production movie better than the original. Sure, the prince couldn't pull off tights worth a dime, but at least he could sing without sounding like a cat going through the garbage disposal. But I digress...

I apologize for the general not-so-convincing placement in time of this fic. It's supposed to be after the Hueco Mundo arc, but it's not quite so clear defined, so sorry for that. But really, I only meant it to be about six months or so since they rescued Hime-sama. I really want to write more of her right now, but I need to focus on Uryu and Chad getting their pathetic asses to save Ichigo. Work work work.

And sorry for this being so long, but I'd like to take the opportunity to thank all of my reviewers. Thanks for the support and help, you guys rock harder than boulders.

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It's supposed to be an internet cookie (chocolate chip), but it's not quite working out...um...It for you...XD


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Once again Uryu was frowning. But this was his serious frown.

Well, he was always serious. But this was his _serious_ serious frown. Urahara smiled before him pleasantly, occasionally taking a sip of his nonfat decaf white chocolate mocha.

"Explain this...again?" Uryu was aggravated to the point where his glasses could no longer stay put on his scrunched up nose. They fell slightly and immediately Uryu pushed them back up, supporting them with his index finger.

"But I just did." The man said politely. Uryu glared but Urahara made no move to probe into the matter again. Just when Uryu was about to self-implode Chad took the stage.

"Actually, I'm a bit confused myself. What exactly is going on?" he grumbled amiably.

"Well, like I said," he paused a moment and took another sip, much to Uryu's annoyance. "It all started when they built the fifth Starbucks. Correct?" Chad nodded, and Urahara smiled wider, taking yet another noisy sip. He hummed to himself a bit and commented on how he wished they wouldn't put so much foam on the top before continuing. "Well, the whole plot was contrived by the very same man who so took the Soul Society by storm- Aizen Sousuke. He had all of the Starbucks built in Karakura, and hence the population began to skyrocket. As well, now the crime rate has increased drastically, giving Aizen ample space in which to delve into. Thanks to both of these effects, Aizen had complete control over the town. He was able to kidnap once again Orihime, as well as Ichigo, without having to worry about anyone in the town noticing. They would merely think it another crime!" he chimed happily and took a drink of his mocha. He made a pleased ruffled sound as the hot fluid went down his throat, relaxing into his seat further.

"So Aizen commissioned all of these Starbucks, just so he could re-kidnap Orihime?" Uryu asked, vexed at the thought.

"Yep." Sip.

"...And you knew about this?" Chad asked, voice quietly rumbling, slightly confused on more points than one.

"Yep."

"And you did nothing to stop it!?" Uryu couldn't help but bellow.

"Well honestly." Urahara looked as if his feathers had been mildly ruffled, but settled back down and drank some more of his coffee. "I didn't know _exactly_ what Aizen was planning to do."

"_No_ idea?" Uryu inquired suspiciously. Urahara looked at the young man blankly, and then back to his nonfat decaf white chocolate Starbucks mocha.

"Well, one is always suspicious, but who was really to say?"

"I guess it does kind of seem like a bad joke." Chad muttered thoughtfully.

"You're defending him?!" Uryu was enraged once more.

"Calm down Uryu," Urahara said calmly, as if he were speaking to Jinta or Ururu. Uryu sighed loudly, making his displeasure clear to anyone within a few rooms distance. "Have a scone." He said, and Uryu took one begrudgingly. He ate it politely, breaking off the ends and munching on them slowly, tasting the lemon flavored pastry. He looked up thoughtfully, squinting his eyes at Urahara.

"Where did you get these scones?"

"Ah, Starbucks. They do have the best pastries." He commented cheerfully.

* * *

Orihime sighed again, and this was noted dully by Ulquiorra. To be precise, it was the twentieth sigh in two hours. He didn't usually supervise her for so long, but Aizen had especially asked him to keep guard over the room. He had been told of Kurosaki Ichigo's escape and near discovery of it. He had, for a time, stayed outside the room and rather kept guard over the door than the woman herself. However, after a short visit from a few irritating arrancar, he decided it would be best for him to stay inside the room. 

The woman was low maintenance. Other than her flurry of questions concerning her other friends, she made no real attempt at conversation. For the past hour and a half she'd been sitting by the window, contenting herself to watch the night landscape outside. No doubt she was thinking of her friends, and Ulquiorra cleared his throat lightly, marking his annoyance at her sulky behavior.

She straightened slightly, understanding his displeasure, but made no other move. Since she'd brought to the castle, she hadn't been able to leave her dismal quarters. Not that she'd been able to leave all that often on her last stay, but Aizen had usually requested for her presence at least once a day. She hadn't even seen the man since her arrival. She wasn't suspicious really, it wasn't quite in her nature to suspect a someone of anything- especially one she didn't know very well, despite the fact he was already a criminal. She had no idea what he was really up to, and to be honest, she didn't think about it much. Strange, she knew, considering she was nearly at the center of his plan, but it was best she didn't. It was convoluted and downright evil. And Orihime wasn't usually used to being in the middle of such a plan.

To be honest, Orihime was tired. She was tired of being left behind, she was tired of being forced to do things she didn't want to do. And she was especially tired of the color white. It got old.

Orihime almost sighed again, but held her breath. She knew Ulquiorra was waiting for it, and she didn't want him thinking her weak. She wasn't a weak person; she may not always be helpful, but she wasn't weak. She stopped looking at the window and glanced at her surroundings. Her room here was much larger than her real one, back home, but it was so dull and monotonous she wondered if maybe it was only the lack of color that made it seem larger. It held the essentials: a bed, a dresser, and a bathroom, all either white or black. Ulquiorra could have easily blended into the background, black and white features mixed extraordinarily well with her setting, but it was his eyes that enabled her to pick him out from the rest. She didn't quite know what it was about those eyes that were so fierce, only that she could never look at them directly without becoming at least a little tense. They were hard and glassy, reminding her of his undead stature.

Just what was it to be a hollow? How could someone let go of their soul to become one? She thought of her brother, having been eaten by one and morphing into such. He had nearly killed her, and she shuddered to think of it. She feared hollows. It was terrible and cowardly she knew, but hollows were more frightening to her than any nightmare. She blushed in shame when she thought to the time when she could hardly look at Kurosaki-kun in his evolved hollow form without breaking into a frightened sweat. His eyes had been so different from the Kurosaki-kun she had known and loved s dearly, and remembering what her brother had done in such a state as Kurosaki-kun had been mortifyingly reminiscent. She knew Kurosaki-kun would never hurt her, but where there were bad memories the body would always respond. She didn't want to be afraid, but given the circumstances, how could she not be? The only option left to her was to hold up her head and keep a straight face. She was never much of a poker player, but that wouldn't stop her from trying. Believe it or not, Orihime was human enough to have pride.

Ulquiorra looked at the woman differently. It was strange, but he seemed to be almost empathizing with the prisoner. She seemed distressed, and wondered if a walk about the place might do her some good. Of course he wouldn't dare attempt it now, with Kurosaki Ichigo ramping and raging about- the chance of their forbidden intercourse was too high- and without Aizen-sama's permission. However...

"Woman, are you hungry?" he asked, softly, but given the silence that hung about the room like dead moths littered on the floor of an attic he was easily heard.

Orihime looked up at him and swallowed as she looked into his intimidating glowing green eyes. She tensed a bit, and opened her mouth to speak. She wasn't particularly hungry, though she supposed eating could do her no harm. She hesitated in her speech and looked up at him with her usual puppy-like eyes. She opened her mouth again, but closed it a moment later.

Ulquiorra said nothing, biding his time in letting her get her true wish out, biding his time to carry it out.

Orihime sighed again and smiled slightly.

"No, not really actually. But I would like some conversation. How are you feeling today Ulquiorra-san?" she smiled up at him, eyebrows clutched together, as if doing all of the work in trying to hold up her content façade. Ulquiorra stoically looked upon her with all the calculating manner in which he normally functioned, but couldn't bring himself to say anything that would drop the fragile screen that showed only the shadow of her unhappiness.

"I'm fine." he said simply, and shut his eyes slowly, not wishing to see her wrestling with her weak moment. He would never say it, but her strong spirit had him baffled. Though seeing her like this...as much as he wasn't surprised, he could almost say he was disappointed.

* * *

Chad was finishing the last of his Raspberry Passion Iced Tea when Uryu began to come up with another degrading speech for Urahara to listen to. 

"To think you can actually buy from that place after knowing its purpose! Do you shinigami have _no_ principals?"

"I can hardly believe _you_ are asking me that Uryu." Urahara responded, cheerfully holding his second decaffeinated nonfat white chocolate mocha for the day. They were quite addictive. Uryu frowned and scoffed. "Not to mention you seem to have no quarrel in drinking from the same place." Urahara smiled as Uryu spluttered and spilled his Chai Tea all over his strange self-designed clothing.

"_I_ didn't buy it however! Therefore I am not _supporting it!_" he bellowed his retort, but settled his cup next to him, with not the intention of drinking from it again.

"Is that what they say nowadays." Urahara hummed to himself. Chad looked at the man from under his long curly bangs, wanting to resume the business of helping his friends get out of Hueco Mundo. Again.

At the least, Chad was nervous. He had been overly confident in his abilities before, and had rushed in nearly killing himself. His pride had gotten the better of him, and though he wouldn't regret leaving to save Orihime, he knew now that he needed to be better prepared for such an environment, crowded over with creatures flowing with reiatsu.

"Urahara-san, you helped Ichigo to train, and you did me the honor of doing such, but please, would you be willing to do so again? We can't afford to have Ichigo taken from our side, as well as Orihime. Seeing as Ishida and I may be the only chance they have in escaping, wouldn't it be practical to train us to be the best our powers have to offer?"

Uryu and Urahara stared with mild incredulousness at their companion. Seeing as it was the longest Chad had ever really spoken in either of their company, it was a bit of a shock.

"I see, Ichigo must be a valuable friend for you to expense such words on him." Uryu looked from the contemplating Urahara to the big bulk that was Chad.

Urahara complimented Chad as to even put down his coffee for a moment for thinking of Chad's proposal.

It was true enough, both Ichigo and Orihime were needed too much concerning the matter of the Winter War. Without them, their side would be at a tremendous loss, one that the Soul Society may not recover from. With Orihime at his side, Aizen was nearly undefeatable, but with Ichigo as well...It wasn't something Urahara wanted to consider.

The thought of training Chad wasn't in Urahara's best interest- he would much prefer to get the Soul Society captains to barge in and make another scene with a more promising outcome of success- but he knew that if he ignored these two, they would only come back and back again. Just like the last time, they would never let him sleep. And Urahara liked to sleep. Even the beautiful need their beauty sleep.

He hummed to himself for a bit and scratched his chin. He had made his decision in a few minutes time, but there was a nice silence that wasn't often found in the shop. So he hummed and hawed to himself, making an act that would convincingly display his deliberation.

"Tell them 'okay' already you damned man." Urahara opened his eyes and looked above him. Lying on a shelf above him lay a small black cat, yellow eyes fiercely glaring their displeasure.

"And it was so quiet." He muttered, in turn followed by a swipe from a paw above him. The action misplaced his hat and he rightfully corrected it, mumbling indignantly about fat spoiled cats. Yoruichi poised her paw again, but Urahara stopped his mumbling and scooted a bit from the shelf on which she occupied.

"Very well Chad. I'll train you again."

"Thank you Urahara-san." Chad rumbled gratefully, and bowed his thanks.

"It will be hard, rough, _vigorous_ training."

"As expected." Chad nodded.

"The hardest training you'll ever receive."

"Yes sir."

"You might not live."

"I understand."

"And I won't give you water."

Yoruichi slapped him with her claws again at his unashamed attempt at trying to dissuade Chad from making Urahara have to work again. Urahara was never an ambitious man- quite the opposite. He was lazy and curious, and such had brought about the existence of the hogyouku. Urahara grumbled to himself again, picking up his coffee and drinking it spitefully.

"Nothing for me?" Yoruichi asked sharply, claws at the ready. Urahara poised his lips on the rim of his plastic cover and looked at her, lids lowered in slight contempt.

He paused significantly before answering. "Coffee has never been good for your complexion—" Yoruichi prepared her attack, if her bristled fur was hint enough, but Urahara ducked away and hurriedly replied, "—But your Toffee Nut Latte is in the fridge."

Yoruichi jumped from her perch and headed in the notified direction. "Coffee can prevent Parkinson's you know." She chided as she swaggered her victory out of the room.

"What a pity it would be to see you as such a pathetically twitchy creature." Urahara retorted.

The comment was not unheard and Yoruichi stopped suddenly in the hallway, stopped in a way that might be defined as a 'twitch'. Urahara smiled at his own small victory as Yoruichi hissed her indignation but continued down her designated path; the remark not being enough to distract her from her own Starbucks treat.

* * *

Author's Note: w00t! Sorry, no Ichigo, but I need to move the plot forward. From now on we can count on some interesting little gadgets from Urahara, Orihime once again grounding her feet into the situation, and Ichigo just trying to find the ground on which to place himself. And all of the drinks I have mentioned can actually be found at Starbucks, though I'm not sure about the Raspberry passion Iced tea. That might be seasonal. The Toffee Nut Latte is to die for, seriously, I highly recommend it. (It's on the secret menu, in case you haven't heard of it.)

Ahem, but about the story. I hope Chad wasn't too articulate for you, but he is pretty high on the high school thingy. He's no Uryu, but I think he has a vocabulary of his own, just chooses not to use it due to his silent nature.

I apologize that I made Orihime look a little pathetic here, I really think the best of her, but even the best of us can have our weak moments. But now that that's over with, she'll be as strong as a maternal boar. Or hog. Something. I don't honestly know the term for a female boar.

Next chapter will have Aizen and Ichigo in a battle of their own! Nothing dirty happening, but they might get into close contact, and Ichigo might comment on the way Aizen smells. What is it with the Aizen pheromones? Honestly, it's a bit weird. O.o

See you in a week or two


	10. Chapter 10

FYI: The reason for the early update is because I'm headed to New Orleans and won't be seeing a computer until Monday. Next update will be on the regular Friday. (You give, you take.)

Chapter Ten

Karin looked at the remains of her room. She growled, perturbed at the disturbance that resulted in the destruction of her room, and her baseball card collection. She could've traded more than 5000 yen for just five of her cards, but nope. All those hopes of saving up to make her friends jealous were dashed against the rocks. But that wasn't the peak of her concern. After that blue haired moron had come in and tried to kill them- or at least that was what she had assumed he was going to do- Ichigo had gone missing. She could only presume that the blue haired guy was another of those spirit things, and that Ichigo was long gone. Probably wouldn't be back for awhile either.

She kicked the ashes that once stood as the walls to her bedroom. The walls that secured her from the terrorizing intrusions of goat-face. The walls that helped contain her emotions, and the walls that helped her keep up the façade of a normal teenage girl living in Karakura town.

"So your house burned down? Good grief." Came a voice directly behind her. Karin jumped at the unexpected rambling and she whipped around to face a boy maybe her own age with white hair and amazingly green eyes. He looked at her dully, not taking so much notice of her but the expression she wore. She clenched her teeth and did likewise to her fists.

"Beat it. You see what you see, now get lost." She brought a fist up higher, trying to make clear her meaning.

He raised his eyebrows skeptically and leaned against his left foot. He scrunched his mouth into a disbelieving pout, making clear to her he had no such intentions. "So what's your family going to do?" he asked, seemingly from boredom rather than actual curiosity.

Karin was a bit taken aback. Just who was this kid and why wouldn't he _get off her lawn?_

"What the hell? Just scram before I scramble your brains." She warned and turned back to her ash-turned room. It would take more than a month of Sundays to clean up all this dust, she thought to herself grimly.

"Watch your tongue. Kids like you shouldn't curse." He remarked. Anger was written all over her face as she turned around once again and took a step toward him, her nose nearly touching his.

"Kids like _me_? What are you? 10?" she asked insultingly, and apparently she hit a nerve. Instantly his forehead crumpled and be bared his teeth at her threateningly.

"What'd you say? Here I am trying to consol you and you treat me like _this?_"

"And who are you to be so important?" she taunted, hands on her hips with a patronizing flair.

"I am Hitsugaya-tai—" he stopped suddenly, as if something had caught his tongue. He looked at her for just the briefest second with widened eyes before leaning back and folding his arms back across his chest. "Wouldn't you like to know."

She stared at him suspiciously. Karin was a smart girl, and she knew that he was hiding something. "You know Ichigo?" she asked, arms folding across her own chest to mimic him.

"Of course. But they're not in season." He said. She could see no sign of a smirk in his face at his joke. He meant to be serious, but she knew better.

"Where is he?" she demanded to know, once again taking another step forward. He backed up a step and turned to the side.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I know you know! Don't pretend otherwise! I'm his _sister! I deserve to know!_" she held her hands to her chest and wildly gestured about her. Her brother was once again gone, but at least this time maybe she could know where exactly he was. As apathetic as she could be, Karin did care for her brother. In fact, he was one of the few people she did care about.

The boy named Hitsugaya looked at her with slightly widened eyes, as if daring himself to sympathize with her. He stared at her for a few moments, just to the point where Karin had hope that he might concede and tell her of the whereabouts of her brother. But Hitsugaya merely scoffed to himself and walked away.

"This is ridiculous." He grumbled to himself, stuffing his hands in his pocket. "See you around."

"Wait! I didn't say you could go! Get back here!" she demanded and ran after him. He took notice of her quick steps and ran ahead faster, so fast that once he turned a corner, he was nowhere to be found afterward. Karin looked from left to right, trying to find some small crevice he might have squeezed himself into. She panted and searched, but it as all in vain. The snow-haired boy was gone, and once again Karin was left alone to wait for the late arrival of her brother.

She mumbled to herself as she dismally and grumpily began kicking small pebbles out of her way. She headed back to the remnants of her room and all the while Hitsugaya Toshirou watched her from the top of a roof. Her eyes were well hidden by her baseball cap, but Toshirou was wise enough to know what lied underneath it. He wouldn't be surprised if her eyes held tears, though he doubted it. He knew from many sources that Kurosaki Karin wasn't one to cry, even in the most acceptable of situations. Emerald eyes took in all that Karin had on display and carefully assessed the girl with knowledge and expertise that should have been clearly beyond him. He wasn't a boy prodigy for nothing.

"So?" Matsumoto Rangiku came up behind him and nearly stifled him with her breasts. Normally she would make the most of the situation, cuddling and cooing to her little taichou, but the situation called now for delicacy. When called for, Rangiku was an expert at that. "Are we going to use her?" she asked and if Toshirou had paid more attention, he could almost have been assured of the slight sullen undertone.

"No." he answered, sharp authority ringing in even such a monosyllable. "She's too emotional. She'd be blinded and she wouldn't be able to hold her own." Though he was vaguely reminded of another certain beloved person whom she truly resembled in more ways than one, he concentrated on focusing his thought process on the real goal.

"Are you giving her enough credit?" Rangiku asked after a short pause. For once the woman was very serious, and as Toshirou glanced to his vice-captain, he saw something that was quite rarely seen in the woman. "She's not Hinamori. She's a strong girl. If you give her a task she'll perform it well I think. I think we oughtta give her a shot." She said. She smiled to her captain, aware of her uncharacteristically somber behavior and righting to correct it.

Toshirou glared at the woman as hard as he dared and scoffed. "I know that!" he nearly yelled. He turned away and looked at the young girl once more. "But what would Ichigo think? Do you think he would appreciate it if we involved his _sister_ in all of this?" Rangiku looked to her as well.

Both Shinigami looked at young Karin with different images in mind- both saw what their minds' memories gave way to. Rangiku vaguely remembered a time when a certain old friend of hers had told her that what the mind doesn't wish to remember, the body will, but what both the mind and the body remember comes a reality all too clear for the person bearing them.

"She's not Hinamori." She said softly.

"She's not you." Toshirou responded just as quietly. Neither looked to the other, and yet both understood the decision that must be made. Kurosaki Karin was not to be meddled with. Especially by two such people that saw something in her apart from herself- their past futures.

* * *

Ichigo trembled slightly as he gripped his sword. His fights with Yammy and Tousen had been fairly unsatisfying, but that wasn't to say he wasn't at all tired. His joints weren't cooperating with him, seeing as he didn't have the convenience to stretch before his activities. But his determination didn't swagger. 

Aizen chuckled lightly to himself. Such impertinence could only be seen in the naïve.

"Ichigo, lay down your arms. You have no hope in this situation." Aizen demanded, rather than recommended. "Nothing is to be gained from this."

"Let Orihime go!" he shouted.

Aizen paused. He had thought Ichigo was more inclined as to free himself first, but apparently not. The martyr in Ichigo lived on, even in the dimmest of predicaments.

"Or what? You'll poke me with that, Zangebu, or whatever its name is?"

"Zangetsu! And let her go, or I _will_ poke you with him! If that's what you'd call tearing your head from your body!" Ichigo was in no mood for jokes, and if his manner didn't show it nothing could. He locked his eyebrows together in concentration and thought about the situation.

It wasn't good, he knew that much.

He also knew Aizen wasn't the type just to give in at a threat. Ichigo _didn't_ have the strength to beat him yet, and he was barely reluctant to admit it to himself, much less his nemesis. He held his ground and mentally scratched his head. If threats weren't enough, then negotiation was the only option left. It wasn't Ichigo's style, but when the situation called for it, Ichigo always stepped up to the plate.

"What about a trade?" Ichigo sputtered out suddenly. His hands were beginning to sweat, and he gripped hold of Zangetsu tighter. Aizen looked at him with widened eyes, not so much of surprise, though there was definitely a hint of such, but more of curiosity.

"A trade? Whatever for?"

"Me and Orihime. Trade off. You let her go, and I'll stay here." He hated the words that came out of his mouth, but he never actually planned on being _good_ during his stay. As long as Orihime was free, he could at least sleep at night.

Aizen's eyebrows felt so inclined as to rise. He broke into a smile and chuckled loudly, almost so loud as to be called a laugh.

"Beg pardon? Her, for _you_? Kurosaki Ichigo, am I unaware of something? Perhaps you gained the power to be able to mess with the space time continuum, and morph time like your dear friend? Are you able to go back in time and recreate things? Make them so they never happened?" Aizen asked. Ichigo paused, not sure if it was a rhetorical answer or not, but decided to answer for the hell of it. Aizen wasn't going to be in _complete _control of the situation.

"No, but—"

"No. Well then, I think you have your answer." Aizen grinned and stood back, looking at Ichigo with a mild sense of wonder.

Ichigo grit his teeth and felt his hands shake. His eyebrows twitched and his forehead spasmed. "That's it! Then fight me! Right now!" he hollered and pointed his sword even farther out, daring Aizen to come at him straight on.

"Ichigo-kun! Do you really think you can defeat me? I trust you remember last time, or could you so easily forget that I sliced you in half."

"As I _recall_ you said you had made a slight miscalculation." Ichigo simpered, rubbing in Aizen's slight mistake.

Aizen frowned. "Kurosaki Ichigo. You cannot defeat me. You cannot _scratch_ me. If you fight me you will die. Do you not care for your own life?"

"Who cares?! I'd rather die with my blade in my hands, holding my pride! I'd rather die with a smile on my face than kneel with a scowl! Don't underestimate the power of _hate_ Aizen!" Ichigo could feel the lava boiling under his skin. Waiting for its release so he could finally come at Aizen with every fiber of malignant intent he possessed at the current moment.

Aizen paused. He stared at Ichigo with a different agenda than he'd had before. Instead of looking at the weak points, he began looking at Ichigo's strengths. By far this boy was...well, not _stupid_, but so..._naive_.

A naïve that Aizen hadn't before encountered. Hinamori wasn't really naïve; he'd brainwashed her, so of she were naïve it would be his doing. Toshirou was naïve, but of a different caliber. Many of the shinigami in the Soul Society were what he would call naïve, but all had at least a certain amount of maturity to it, for Ichigo...

Was he so truly convinced that he was right? Looking at Ichigo he saw that the young man was very angry, but _hate_ he didn't think was even in the boy's vocabulary. Ichigo was upset, but Aizen knew very well that he didn't hate him. No, Ichigo just didn't understand. Like a cornered animal, Ichigo was attacking the unknown predator, but unlike most animals, Ichigo wasn't fighting to protect himself or even Orihime really. He was fighting to protect his pride.

Of all the people Aizen had ever encountered, not many would lay themselves down for the sake of their pride. Before Ichigo had ignored it, what was so different this time?

"Why do you stand up for your pride now? When you're already here?" Aizen's voice reverberated with omnipotence, yet it was soft, like the waves against a weathered ship.

"Because I have nothing left! What else is there to defend if you won't let me?! You won't kill my family, they're not in your way! You won't kill Orihime, you need her for your sick little plan! My friends are all safe! I don't have a dog! What else is there? What else can I protect when all that's left is my _pride_?!" Ichigo panted heavily, shouting across the room though even at a normal volume, his words could be carried effortlessly by the echoing halls. All of Las Noches was stilled by his screams, and Ichigo wanted everyone to take notice. He wanted them all to drink it in, drink _him_ in, the one and only that would ever stand up to Aizen without even the strength to back it up.

"Your life." Aizen said, almost obviously.

Ichigo took a small step back, Aizen's words ringing true and strangely shocking. He stood still and gaped at the older man while Aizen turned to leave the room.

_Silly boy,_ he thought to himself, almost smiling. _Have you forgotten so easily what you did merely five minutes ago?_ He walked down the halls with perfect grace as he left the astonished and disgruntled teenager where he'd been standing.

Aizen didn't know _precisely_ what had taken place with Kaname Tousen, but it wasn't quite what Orihime had. No, Kurosaki Ichigo possessed the power of time, but to Aizen's threat. From his knowledge, Kurosaki Ichigo had obtained the power to go forward in time.

But his was all ahead of him, first he would have a cup of tea, and then he would decipher just what kind of power Ichigo held. If it was what he thought, he would be more of a threat than Aizen wanted to admit.

* * *

Author's Note:...Yeah. Next chapter will be Aizen thinking oh-so-hard about Ichigo's new power over a cup of Blue Lady tea. He doesn't like Peach tea, it brings back some bad memories O.o (Momo- if you didn't catch my drift). 

Um...I would like to start updating every two weeks, just to keep things steady, but to be honest I just love getting all of your reviews so much I'm having trouble in keeping myself from doing that

Let's see, I want to see more Gin- because he's my grown up son- and a few of the captains as well. I think it's more important now that I focus on our honey bear pair, but I might stick a little Zaraki in there, because he's my favorite

We'll see more of Toshirou, Rangiku, Renji and Rukia need to come back (man I've got lots to do!) and of course Ichigo's school friends will get some training. I think I might stick in Keigo's sister too, because she's the bomb. I hate her in the anime though- they ruined her spirit. For those of you that don't remember her, she's in chapter 213 and 227. She rocks.

And f.y.i. I'm actually not so much a yaoi fangirl concerning Bleach (It came out!). So we will see lots of crack pairings (because I love them) and some deserved pairings...For instance, I am a firm believer in that Rukia belongs to RENJI. Poor Renji, have you noticed how he's paired with everyone EXCEPT Rukia? I'm trying to put an end to that. So for those of you that don't like those pairings—get over it NOW please. It's not my problem, so don't rant and rail just because you don't like it. Ugh, sorry. I got an annoying review bitching about how its 'ICHIxRUKI' for3v3r, and I'm kinda ticked off. So if you don't like it, ignore it XP So just to warn you, I'm not putting him in any threesomes with Byakuya and Shuuhei. Wow, I never thought I'd see the day when someone had to WARN against NOT doing a threesome...O.o

But the point, pairings you might get a hint of: RenjixRukia, Mizuho (Keigo's sister)xIkkaku, GinxRangiku, ToshirouxKarin- like I said, I loooove crack pairings- and kind of UlquixHime. That one will be more one sided though. Poor Ulquiorra... "What is box happening???"

Ack, sorry this is so long!! But one last thing--for those of you that would like to read Part Two to Imagining Through the Ceiling, check out Chapter Two again, and there is a site that you can view it on. So to my anonymous viewer 'ceres', go ahead and check it out. Hope you at least get this...sorry the whole email thing didn't work out. And now I'm done.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

For the second time, Tatsuki felt something was seriously wrong. She guessed pretty easily, noticing that it was the same feeling the last time Orihime was abducted, but for some reason, it was even worse than before. Not only was her head empty and confused, her hands hurt for some reason. It was like she had punched out a dinosaur with no padding, and they constantly shook. Not knowing the meaning of this, she went to the one place she knew she could get answers.

Hands still trembling harshly, as if she'd pinched a nerve, she knocked on the door to Urahara's shop and waited. She saw the cat before Urahara himself came out. It passed in front of her solemnly and then moved to sit in front of the two doors. It looked up at her with clear glassy golden eyes and Tatsuki became just a little nervous. She'd been here before, and she'd remembered the cat- well, she more remembered Urahara talking to it really. It was strange, the cat seemed to hold more intelligence than it should, and Urahara certainly had made use of it. He had talked to it as he would to an old friend, and while that wasn't necessarily unnatural, there was something else in his demeanor that put Tatsuki on edge. It was the way he had leaned so closely to the cat, even bothering to remove the fan to which was always in front of his face to speak to it. He whispered quietly, like one would to a lover, and Tatsuki was a bit...unnerved at that.

For the love of, it was just a cat.

She frowned at the feline and continued to wait patiently for the owner of the shop.

"He won't be out for awhile." A deep voice pierced the silence and Tatsuki looked about her, confused.

"Huh?" he grunted, seeing no one.

"Down here." It came again, and Tatsuki indulged it. She looked down and saw no more than the cat licking its front right paw. It looked up at her, and just when she was mentally kicking herself for thinking it could be the tiny creature it spoke. "That's right, I talk. If you'll get over it now that would be great."

"Um...okay." Tatsuki wasn't really used to talking cats, but it wasn't completely surprising. It explained a lot, anyway.

"Wonderful. If you'll follow me, I can maybe answer some of your questions." The cat told her and began walking away from the small shop. Tatsuki looked unsure, giving a lingering glance to the shop, and then to the cat. Well, Urahara would most likely be awhile. She may as well follow the talking cat and get her questions answered as soon as possible. Tatsuki ran to catch up with the cat, and they were soon out of sight.

"Hello?" Urahara exited his shop, fan in hand and covering his mouth and nose as usual. He glanced from side to side, but seeing no one, he stood on his doorstep curiously tapping his foot against the wooden ground. "Well that's odd. I could have sworn I felt something." He mumbled, but shrugged his shoulders all the same. It probably wasn't that important anyway.

* * *

Yoruichi silently congratulated herself on finding Tatsuki before Urahara had gotten to her. Urahara was already whiny enough having to train Chad and an unwilling Uryu, but having Tatsuki on his back would make him refuse her altogether. Yoruichi knew Tatsuki was worth something, and wouldn't as easily send her away. Tatsuki was looking about anxiously, wondering just where they were going. Yoruichi smiled to herself as she reached their destination. She hopped up onto a lowered branch of a nearly dead tree and looked down on her new companion.

"Well? What have you to ask that would bring you to that man's shop?" she asked, egging Tatsuki to hurry on and get the questions going.

Tatsuki strengthened her resolve and looked at the cat squarely. Normally, she might have been concerned about someone seeing the two of them, but for now she had business to attend to.

"What's going on? I can feel Orihime isn't here again. And something else is missing too. And you'd better tell me or—"

"Or what?" Yoruichi looked up from licking her paw. Tatsuki sputtered, not quite sure just what she'd do to intimidate a cat. Yoruichi gazed at her unwaveringly, and then yawned widely, showing off her tiny, yet impressive little white teeth. "You can relax. I didn't bring you up here just to _listen_ to your questions. I'll answer them." Tatsuki inwardly smiled, and sighed out directly in her relieved state. "In due time." Yoruichi added. Tatsuki looked to the cat with a hint of shock and surprised betrayal while Yoruichi shook it off.

"I will answer your questions, but you must do something for me first." She rose to her feet and stretched out her back, not in any shape or form nervous about the outcome. If Yoruichi wsa one thing, it was confident.

"What's that?" Tatsuki asked, unable to hide a bit of distain in her voice. It went unnoticed and Yoruichi looked upon her again, sizing her up.

It wasn't developed, but she had very potential reiatsu. It wouldn't be much to be of any help soon, but in the future, Yoruichi saw her as a very important asset to their side.

"Let me build upon you spiritual pressure, and for every month I train you I'll answer one of your questions. Fair enough?"

"One week. Every week I want a question answered." Tatsuki challenged, stomping her foot on the ground determinately. Yoruichi looked unimpressed.

"One month will be fine. unless your questions aren't so important."

"I can just ask Urahara." She retorted.

Yoruichi scoffed. "Oh yes, he'll answer your questions and then turn you out! You'll know everything and be able to do nothing. Won't that be satisfying?" she was rubbing it in a bit, but she could have gone further.

Tatsuki made no move other than to frown.

"Two weeks then."

She was ardent, Yoruichi noted. But that might be a good thing in such a fighting spirit.

"_Three_ weeks, you silly girl. I'll answer a question every three weeks." Yoruichi consented. Tatsuki thought about it and then smiled a bit.

"Deal." She said and put out her hand. Yoruichi indulged her as to put her paw in the girl's hand and it was shaken strongly. Once that gesture was complete, Yoruichi stretched her claws and grimaced to herself. She hoped this girl didn't have any pets, for if that handshake was any hint she must be very abusive.

* * *

Aizen stirred his tea for no real reason, other than to do something with his hands. He never put sugar or cream in his tea- they detracted from the real flavor- so it was utterly pointless. Aizen wasn't usually a fidgety man, but his thought process required some irritability for him to really concentrate.

After talking with Grimmjow – a long talk- Aizen still didn't know as much as he'd liked. Luckily for him he had his little reiatsu detectors, convenient little things that would record anything when a reiatsu went higher than necessary. For instance, in the beginning of his stay in Hueco Mundo, more than one arrancar found themselves at leisure to fight every second available –case in point, Grimmjow- and so Aizen had found a way to remedy that.

Once they found out they would be punished, they immediately stopped. Except for Grimmjow, but that wasn't the focus of Aizen's attention right now. He watched the screen intently and saw Ichigo over Tousen, diligently trying to stop the blood from flowing out of his skull like Kool-Aid in a leaky pitcher. Ichigo held the pressure firmly, and of course Grimmjow had said some things that had made Ichigo angry.

So it had been Grimmjow to set off this little reaction –the meddling little catalyst. If Aizen had been a weaker man, he would have rubbed his forehead and cursed Grimmjow, but he was better than that and managed not to throw such a fit. He would ignore the matter, maybe give Grimmjow a bit of a talking to- not that he imagined it to do much good- and continue on. The matter wouldn't go away with a time out, that was for sure.

Aizen knew his theory to be confirmed, and if one had the ears of God, they may have been able to detect the small aggravated sigh that came from his lips. Kurosaki Ichigo would be staying with them for a long, long time. After all, he couldn't give him back and let the Soul Society discover this ability- not that he'd _planned_ on sending him back anyway, but just to clear up that option it was thought- and he couldn't really _kill _him. Aizen was a curious man by nature, and an ambitious one. Seizing this opportunity he was quite reluctant to let it go. A new ability to go forward in time...

It was almost ridiculous.

The convenience of it, the significance of it. To think that if Kurosaki Ichigo knew of his own ability, his plan would fall to pieces! Within moments Ichigo could take the hogyouku and turn it to dust!

So for now Aizen's plan was to keep Ichigo in his castle and keep a close watch over him. He couldn't allow Ichigo to practice on the skill, and as was once said by a very wise Chinese General, 'Keep your friends close, your enemies closer.'

Aizen stopped stirring his tea and took a sip. The flavor was soft and fruity, Blue Lady was his correct guess. Blue. That would be the color of Grimmjow's face by the time Aizen was through with him. Bluer than his hair, Aizen vowed.

* * *

"What's that?" Tatsuki asked suspiciously. She didn't really trust cats that spoke to begin with, not to mention ones that held suspicious looking objects, ones that most likely had something involving oneself. Yoruichi held two objects before her, each constructed out of boredom from Urahara.

"This one," Yoruichi pointed her paw at the small object at her left. "Will help you increase your spiritual pressure. And this one." She gestured to her right. "Will decrease it."

"Decrease? Why is that going to help?" she asked, thoroughly confused.

"For now, just focus on this one." Yoruichi pushed it forward with her front paw and continued to whisk it to Tatsuki using the momentum with her tail. Tatsuki picked it up, and immediately it began to reverberate in her hands. She dropped it suddenly, and it rested on the ground perfectly motionless. "It won't bite you. But I will if you don't pick it up."

Tatsuki frowned, but picked it up once more. Again it instantly began to vibrate, and Tatsuki held it out before her, giving herself a good few feet of space. Yoruichi sighed.

"Even if it were to explode I don't think holding it out so far would help you much." She commented, and Tatsuki begrudgingly admitted to herself that this was true. She brought it closer to her face and studied it. For now it wasn't doing anything except shaking, and Tatsuki couldn't help but be a little doubtful about its use now. She frowned her displeasure and held it before her, throwing it up and catching it again.

"So what's supposed to happen? You sure this thing is really worth something?" she raised her eyebrows and scoffed. What a joke! She threw it up once more, and for a split second, it halted in midair. Tatsuki was too stunned to do anything, and it was only for a second, so when it dropped back into her palm, she only stared at it. _What the--?_ She thought curiously, and threw it up again. This time as she did so, it not only halted, but a small flash of light went off. Yoruichi smiled to herself, but it luckily went unnoticed by the awestruck girl. If Tatsuki had seen it, she wouldn't have thrown in into the air for a third time.

The small metal-textured ball halted completely in its place. Tatsuki momentarily ooed and awed before smartly taking back a step. The small flash of light came forth and directed itself to look directly at Tatsuki. What was a straight light became a successive flash and the light was aimed at Tatsuki's chest.

"What the--?" she started, but didn't get farther than that. Fast than a backhand to the head, the small ball latched itself into the middle of Tatsuki's chest attaching itself to the center of her soul and pushing it out of her body. "What the hell?!" she shouted, and tried aggressively to remove the cold metal from her soul's skin.

"That won't work." Yoruichi commented, and Tatsuki growled.

"What've you done?!" she shouted angrily.

"Relax. It won't hurt if you don't flail about so much."

"It won't come off!" Tatsuki hollered some curses while she was in the midst of trying to get the damned thing off her. Yoruichi sighed and rested her head on her forepaws.

"Kids, they never listen."

The small ball began to morph, much to Tatsuki's horror, and the metal that covered the outside spread out over her chest. Her chest felt cold and suddenly she felt inclined to stop, as she felt some of the metal go through her chest and into her body. It wrapped around her upper body, save her arms were free to move about as they pleased, and a small portion of the ball started to drill itself into Tatsuki's chest, creating a hole much like that of a hollow's.

She gaped in horror as Yoruichi stared on drearily. She tried to call for help of some kind, but her lungs weren't able to respond. The cold had leaked in and nearly stopped them from working, of only for a few terrifying moments. Finally, what had seemed to be forever to Tatsuki- in fact, she even went so far as to compare her situation with that of the mother in Silent Hill- the process stopped and Tatsuki was left to find a very large hole in her chest, as well as a new sort of metal bra around her chest.

"There now. Now that that's over with, we can proceed."

"Huh?" Tatsuki asked dumbly, a bit traumatized from the episode.

"Now your mission is to close the hole. What you must do is kill all of the hollows you can within 24 hours, and if the hole is filled, you should have enough spiritual power to match those of your friends. Understand?" Yoruichi asked. Tatsuki stared at her with a dumbstruck sense of awe, and could only utter one more monosyllable.

"Huh?"

Yoruichi sighed. She wondered to herself lightly if Urahara was having as hard a time as she was.

Just then Urahara was trying to dislodge Chad's arm from Uryu's crossbow, and was in fact wondering to himself that wherever Yoruichi was, that she was having just as miserable a time as he.

* * *

Author's Note: Okay, so we have Tatsuki training with Yoruichi, Urahara with Uryu and Chad, and soon I'll put in Mizuiro and Keigo. I'm not sure if I'll _really_ use them though. I really just want Tatsuki to get into the mess, cause I feel bad for her. M and K are friends and all that jazz, but for Tatsuki she has Orihime, and she's completely out of this part of her life. So I'm throwing her a bone.

Next chapter will have...hmm...let's see...Ichigo and Aizen obviously. Tatsuki first though, I need to get her through this training process. And soon I'll put in some inserts for some other captains. I know they'll wanna get into the mix, cause EVERYBODY loves ICHIGO. Hooray. Hope this chapter was interesting enough. See you next week or so, so have a good day


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: I am so sorry. I completely forgot, and then I couldn't find my keys. (My USB is on them and that's where I keep all my files, so it's relevant.) Bad events, but here it is. I shoved Ichigo in there, so don't kill me.

* * *

Chapter Twelve

"Your task," Yoruichi was being as patient as she could be for the situation's sake, but if she really had to explain this one more time she may as well just give up. "Is to kill all of the hollows you find."

"All of them?" Tatsuki assured.

"ALL of them. As soon as one is killed, find another and kill it. Then repeat." Goodness, people understood shampooing directions, why couldn't this chick understand this simple procedure?

"So kill them until _this _is full again?" she directed her pointing finger to her chest.

"Yes. And you only have 24 hours."

"What happens if it isn't full?" she asked, knowing it most likely wasn't going to be something good.

"You'll die and become a hollow." The cat said plainly.

"Great. And I'm supposed to kill them with this?" she asked, holding up a small dagger. When the transformation...possession...whatever had happened, happened, Tatsuki had found the small thing at her side. Yoruichi had explained it to be her Zanpakutou, the very same thing that Ichigo carried around on his back. When she inquired about the difference of size, Yoruichi coughed and muttered about it being unimportant. Her dagger would grow as the number of hollows she killed increased, and so the subject was dropped.

"Yes. Now are you finished? You'd better hurry. Your clock is ticking."

"Yeah, I guess so." Tatsuki glanced about her and looked at her unmoving body. "So you'll make sure to take care of my body right?"

"Of course. It'll be fine. Now go kill things." Yoruichi waved her off, and reluctantly Tatsuki left, running through the bushes and branches to go find and kill as many spiritual beings as possible.

She came across the first one in no time.

Whoever the new shinigami was that had taken over for Kuchiki Rukia, they weren't doing a very good job. Hollows ran wild about the place, and it had really been Chad, Uryu and Ichigo that had taken care of them. But the things were running rampant since all three had gone, so Tatsuki was truly in luck that so many horrible creatures were running wild.

Her first victim was tiny indeed. It was only the size of Tatsuki's hand, and was in fact a lizard. She scoffed to herself, and poked it with her dagger. It hissed at her violently and she then sliced open its head, turning the thing into a small flash of light before it dissipated into thin air.

"Well that was easy." She remarked and tossed her dagger to her left hand. She looked around for some more, and not seeing anything else in her sight, looked at the small GPS-looking system Yoruichi had given her. Small dots flickered on the screen, some yellow, some green, and some red, each symbolizing the level of difficulty of the hollow. Green were the easiest, so Tatsuki looked for those. They were littered about everywhere, and Tatsuki wondered of they would all looked like little lizards.

They didn't.

Her second hollow was as big as a building, but its head was as empty as its chest. She didn't quite remember how she accomplished it, but she somehow managed to kill it using her small dagger and a telephone wire.

She continued on her journey, and killed eventually every green dot on the screen. With every elimination the hole began to fill up, but not as quickly as she'd hoped. She'd killed over twenty hollows, but her chest wasn't even a quarter full. She ran on, and decided to go for the yellow hollows; maybe they would satisfy the want her hole required.

She came across many different hollows. There were as many different kinds of hollows as there were religions in the universe: some big some small, some creepy, some kind of cute looking. Some were loud and obnoxious, and some she had to watch her back on for their stealth. Her hole was at last half way full on her 40th hollow, but the sun was beginning to set, and she knew she had only about 12 more hours until her fate was sealed.

She began to feel the weight of the hole, and its drive to kill more hollows.

Her feet hurt and her back ached. She was used to continual fighting, but using so many techniques on so many various opponents was taking its toll on her. Her dagger had turned into a short sword which she was pleased with. She didn't want some big bulky thing she had to carry on her back all the time like Ichigo's. No, she would be content to have her sword like this, though her wishes were being ignored as the sword grew just a bit longer after every new hollow kill.

She'd grazed death a few times. One hollow had been especially mouthy as to earn Tatsuki's full on rage. She rushed at it recklessly and ended up nearly getting her hand sawed off, as well as her left leg. Her hole was nearly complete, and almost every yellow dot was gone when her legs gave out beneath her.

She huffed and puffed, but nothing would enable her to stand for the moment being. Even Tatsuki knew when to rest. You could only give so much energy before your own body refused to cooperate with your wishes, and so with the wisdom of her years of training, she let her body fall and recuperate itself.

Her hands sagged to her sides and she rested her head against the wall, eyelids fluttering and flicking the sweat away from her eyes. Her breathing began to slow and her body grew limp underneath her. She tried to stay awake, but her efforts were failing. She had only five hours left to complete her task, and she had no time to fool around. But her body hushed her with its aches and ailments, and Tatsuki was slowly being taken in by the comfort of the sleep that called to her. _Just for a minute_. She promised herself. _Only a minute. _

* * *

Ichigo slammed his fist into the wall for the fifth time since he was thrown into his room. He cursed it all. He cursed the stupid white room, he cursed the drapes, the Espada, the arrancar, the stupid tile floors, the stupid white **white WHITE** that seemed to enclose him every way he turned. But not surprisingly at all was most of his hate directed at the man that made it all possible, Mr. Aizen Sousuke. _That bastard!_ Ichigo punched the wall successively past the point of aching and soreness, past the point where he thought they were broken, and only stopping until his hands felt like they would really fall off.

He looked at them, red and swelling by the second, and didn't quite care. Of course, he did begin to care when he thought about just how that would look to the man he hated so much. Aizen would most likely laugh at him, and Ichigo had had enough of that.

He stomped over to his bathroom and shoved them under ice cold water. He winced at the first contact of the piercing temperature, but gradually became used to it. The water changed from staggeringly painful to soothing in a matter of minutes, and Ichigo found himself beginning to relax, dropping his hands to the bottom of the sink to bring the coolness factor even lower. He hummed his pleasure softly and closed his eyes.

He wondered just what everyone was doing at home. His mind was in a hazy state, and only now was he calm enough to think of his family and friends. Chad had warned Ichigo, he remembered that now, and he quietly laughed to himself over it. What a joke that Chad had those kinds of instincts! Ichigo could have Zanpakutou as big as a building and he could never hope to have Chad's intuition.

Uryu was probably happy- that dumb mouthy bastard, Ichigo muttered to himself mentally. That Quincy probably didn't care two yen for whatever happened to his shinigami classmate. Ichigo looked at the running water, and his eyes became even more clouded over. He really hoped his family would make do without him. They didn't even have a body for which to shove Kon into, and at least satisfy his sisters. Well, Yuzu anyway.

Ah, Karin. How would he explain this to her? he wondered. He sighed and shut off the water, heading back into the main room and collapsing onto his bed with a muffled grunt, face flat on the soft covers. They weren't green, he noted, and they weren't 400 thread count. He shoved a handful of the odorless sheets and stuffed them under his face, thinking hard about not thinking, and desperately trying to reach a state of apathy.

* * *

"Hey there chickadee." A deep unfamiliar voice rumbled to Tatsuki. Her eyes jolted open and she found herself face to face with a larger than life hollow. It smiled horrible pointy teeth only inches from her face, and she slammed her head into the wall trying to get further away as the stench of rotting flesh emitted from its mouth. "Whatcha doing out so late at night, huh?" he asked. Blood spattered saliva spit some drops on Tatsuki's face. She grumbled something unpleasant and cringed.

"Get the hell out of my face." She cursed him, and he chuckled loudly.

"Whatta feisty one!" he spoke mostly to himself. "Guess I picked the right block tonight." Tatsuki suddenly noticed her hollow detector screaming at her. She picked it up and it showed her a large red dot was on her. She discreetly looked to the hollow in front of her as it hissed its pleasure and she gulped. She put down the device slowly, but not more than two seconds later did the hollow smash it to smithereens and laugh at her raucously. "Ahaha! What a fun night this will be!" he swiped his long arm out at her and somehow her aching muscles allowed her to dodge.

She winced at the ripping she felt in her thigh, and dropped down on one knee. A red hollow and a body more inclined to collapse than cooperate. Tatsuki was in for some hell of a time.

Another fist found its way to her, but this time she wasn't lucky enough to get out of the way. It met with her and crashed into her side with a painful crunching noise. Her face crumpled in agony as her ribs buckled under the pressure and cracked. She fell to the ground and rolled provided by the inertia granted. She skidded to a halt and the hollow cackled behind her, relishing in her pain and disappointed in her condition.

"This is it? I got all excited for this?" it hissed and stomped up behind her. She growled furiously and tried to lift herself from the ground. Its tail whipped around and held her down. She choked out her indignation, but the sound of the hollow's own disgruntled state overpowered anything she might say. It directed a long pulse of reiatsu into her body and she held back a pained whimper. "How's that for you? Eh?" he laughed again, and Tatsuki wondered if all hollows had this kind of bad humor.

"Get…off…me…!" she choked, once again attempting to lift herself up. She seemed to be at a dead end though. Her body was giving up and the hollow didn't seem as if it were in any rush to free her from its grasp. It ignored her cry and pressed down on her with more power. She cried out and his grin widened to a length easily as long as her own bike.

"I would almost envy you. To die on such a pretty night like this one. No moon to glare you down, and almost assuring your fine descent into hell. What do you think girl? Do you think hell is as wonderful as it sounds?" she growled and spat out some blood. The hollow's eyes bore at her from behind its mask, like the light of a storm trooper in a Jewish hideout, the eyes ensured terrible things Tatsuki wasn't keen on experiencing. She took a strong grip on her sword and slashed upward, catching it were its nose had once existed. It screamed out Bloody Mary and released her from her position on the ground. She rolled over and coughed out a good amount of blood before using all of her mind's will to stand up. She pointed her sword at the hollow and gave it her best stare down.

"Come get it." She dared.

It growled a threat, snapping its teeth at her and crawled over with more speed than would have been thought for a creature of its volume and size. Tatsuki prepared herself for its next attack, and as it jumped her she stuck her sword through its chest. It bolted out a quick and immensely painful shot of reiatsu that electrocuted Tatsuki and enabled the hollow to jump away without further harm to itself. What it didn't realize however, was that he had just given Tatsuki a nice dosage of reiatsu that gave her the spiritual strength needed to complete her Zanpakutpou. Suddenly Tatsuki noticed her sword had two handles, one on each end of her blade. She took one in each hand curiously and pulled them apart. From each of the handles came an edge, producing two swords with the convenience of one small holder. She grinned happily to herself and looked at the hollow with vengeance gleaming in her eyes. It hissed its concern, but came at her anyway, enjoying the feel of being at a risk, and wanting to earn its meal.

It aimed its teeth to attack her face and she dodged quickly, the reiatsu it had shot through her had now given her a sort of new energy, and for now her adrenaline rush was covering the pains of her wounds. As it passed her she shot out her own arms and slashed its side with the edges of both blades. It screamed in pain and snarled, coming back at her and raising its claws to cut her open. She ducked and rolled to the left and it followed after her. She jumped, hopped, and skipped about trying to turn about swiftly, suddenly, and inconveniently for the large hollow. It wrapped around itself uncomfortably and raged about, eyes glowing red with anger and degradation.

She flipped around, and half-impressed with her own recovery, nailed down one of its hands with one of her blades. It cried out and squirmed beneath it, blood squirting out from the wound and its pathetic cries ringing out painfully to Tatsuki's ears.

"Shut up." she shouted, and brought her second blade on upon its head. She split it open widely and efficiently dissipated the hollow and releasing the soul from within. She wiped her blade on her hakama and did the same for the other after removing it from the cement. She looked down and saw the hole in her chest begin to completely fill up.

A golden light shot around the hole like a halo once it was while again, and Tatsuki smiled to herself, relieved. She'd had about an hour left, but her task was finished. Unfortunately just as she relaxed the crown of light brightened intensely and shot her into the wall. She crashed into the stone wall and fell to the ground. She grumbled unappreciatively and cursed the maker of this ridiculous contraption, and then headed back into the woods to find Yoruichi and her body.

As Urahara was making his morning smoothie, he sneezed viciously and this ended up causing him to accidentally lift the lid to the blender. The ingredients shot about the room violently, and Urahara wondered silently what he'd done to upset God so much.

* * *

Author's Note: Hope it was good. Poor Urahara, I'm so mean to him

I tried to make Tatsuki as kick ass as I could. And yeah, this was mostly about her. Next chapter will have Ichigo and Aizen interaction, though I'm not sure what kind. Not of the devious nature, but close contact is possible. More than possible. Ah, hell, count and Aizen doing his usual towering over intimidation factor. Poor Ichigo. I think Urahara and he are going to start a Hate Club against me….;;

So here it comes: I'm not quite sure I'm going to finish this. A few things have happened and I've realized that I can't really waste my time writing when other things need to be done. I have up to chapter 18, but beyond that I don't know if I'll continue. So sorry, and hope you've enjoyed what I made.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Aizen tapped his fingers lightly on the arm of his chair.

He was having one of those moments.

Aizen was bored, and it showed in everything he was currently doing. It was in moments like these where Aizen missed Soul Society. He'd had a real purpose there, and everything he did counted. Here too of course, in due time, but for now there wasn't much to do. He frowned lightly and wondered absent-mindedly of the tasks he could do. There wasn't much to watch. After all, the only things he was able to watch were the things his Espada brought to him and tidbits from his own little world-literally, not figuratively that is-and talking to the little girl, Orihime, wasn't much of an activity. She only ever stared at him with big shiny eyes, and never really added to the conversation.

Talking to his Espada was out of the question; he was their master and they his pets, not his confidantes. He could talk with Gin, but to be honest he was a bit miffed at the man after his small stunt of putting blue food coloring in the water supply, ruining Aizen's carefully articulated color scheme of Las Noches by turning the arrancar's outfits blue. After all, arrancar did sweat, and when they weren't on missions of some sort, all they seemed to do was train. Tousen too was an ally of sorts, but though the man could be helpful in more ways than one, he wasn't much of a conversation tool. He was a bit more self-centered than most, and one way or another Aizen found that the conversations he had with him ended up steering into the direction of justice and righteousness and blah blah blah.

Aizen was in one of those moods where everything seemed to be ten times worse than it really was.

His fingers stopped drumming and his frown grew sideways rather than downward. He thought of it, he could have a little 'get-together' with Ichigo, the boy was interesting enough...

Aizen shook his head. No, he couldn't. It was too soon. He didn't want anyone to think that he favored the little rascal or anything. Ichigo was beginning to become more of a hassle than Aizen had hoped. It had been a few days since the incident of the invasion of Aizen's bed, not to mention Yammy and the Tousen-gate and he had yet managed to get himself into even deeper water. Every time his meals were delivered he would throw them at the arrancar who delivered them and demand to be set free. He would rant and rail about everything until he had worked himself so dry that that the wood of his kinder was burned before even being alit. He would smash things with no warning -Aizen had been watching naturally- and took more than a few showers daily. Maybe he was trying to cool off steam, Aizen thought inattentively, but it didn't matter. Kurosaki Ichigo wasn't going to get any favors for his behavior.

Of course...

Well, the boy could get punished, yes? If a pet does something wrong, you catch them in the act and then slap them with a newspaper, that's how it was done. So perhaps then Aizen would hit his little puppy on the nose then? Aizen stopped his semi-sulking and rose from his throne. He straightened his shoulders and headed to the kitchen, walking a little faster than he normally did. He would bring the young man his dinner, and if he tried to throw anything...well, Aizen would just throw back.

* * *

Grimmjow smacked Naux on the head. She wasn't doing anything, but Grimmjow was bored, and when he became bored, he became violent. Ever since Gin had put food dye in the water supply and turned all the clothes blue, Grimmjow closely resembled a very large chunk of cotton candy- more so than he wanted to admit, and it didn't lighten his mood. She frowned, but knew better than to tempt him. Instead she took out a small device from her pocket, and put it before Grimmjow.

"Lookit what I got." She smiled, and he hit her again.

"The hell is it?" he asked impatiently, wanting to be entertained, not questioned. She humph-ed her part and then played with the small gadget. It was the size of her palm, white and shiny. It held a small square screen at the top that glowed white and had titles listed on it. She used her finger to go through the titles by swirling it below the small screen and the list went on endlessly, and Grimmjow couldn't help but look a bit closer. He watched as she put some small white thing in her ear that was connected to the thing and she held one out for Grimmjow. He backed up a bit, but took it; curiosity winning over caution.

He waited, and suddenly a loud obnoxious voice came out of it. Grimmjow jumped in surprise and ripped the thing out of this ear.

"The hell is this?! Trying to make me deaf?!" he shouted and aimed to smack her again. She ducked out of the way and went over to his other side.

"It's an ipod! They have 'em all over the place down there. I stole it from some random dude. Check it out, it holds a bunch of songs." She showed it to him cautiously, making sure his arm was in her clear sight. He leaned in again and saw her work the thing. Eventually he put the small ear phone back into his ear and listened to the shit. He grabbed the device from her and played around with it. He clicked on a song and played it for no more than a few seconds before clicking on another. The clicking noise was more addicting than the music for him.

"Hey! I like that song!" Naux protested and Grimmjow growled at her. She shied away, but didn't relent so much as to stop. "Come on, just listen to the music a bit, yeah?"

He harrumphed and let her have her way. Annoyingly she began singing along to some songs, and at some points even Grimmjow smacking her had no effect. "If you want to see some action, you've got to be the center of AT-TRACT-TION!..." she danced along and Grimmjow didn't think some of this shit was half bad. Although more than anything he liked the bands that clanged and clashed their instruments around. Some of the screaming was obnoxious, but some of it was pretty hefty shit.

Grimmjow was just beginning to play solitaire while listening to Tool when a large pressure of reiatsu began to creep up on him. Not that it was in any way being suppressed, but Grimmjow knew that spiritual pressure, and wanted to stay the hell away from it. He growled low and dangerous and snatched the ipod from Naux.

"That's it." he grumbled. "I'm leavin'."

"Huh?" Naux blinked in surprised and paused. She stopped, felt for anything out of place, and felt the same pressure Grimmjow had moments before. She mentally slapped herself for being so slow, and hurried to catch up with him. No loss, she still had her Greek Myth book to show him.

* * *

"WHAT?!" Rukia bellowed out, nearly causing her stoic adopted brother to frown noticeably. "S-sorry nii-sama." She apologized, and took a step back. She was closer to her brother now, more so than ever, but she was still nervous around him.

"It is apparent that Kurosaki Ichigo and Inoue Orihime are once again in Hueco Mundo. We are not sure of the exact time of their capture, but we do know that neither capture was forced. Which of course brings about the suspicion of cohering."

Rukia's eyes bulged but she said nothing. She knew Ichigo would never join Aizen's side. She looked discreetly to her left to look at her old friend Renji. He was just as shocked and upset as she was, if the vein pulsing on his neck gave any indication.

"What are our orders then Captain?" he asked, much more calmly then he looked. Byakuya paused for a moment, walking to the window of the office and looking out at his view. It was a nice view. Plenty of plants, and flowers, even a small waterfall. Renji grit his teeth and clenched his fists. Renji was never a patient man, and having to remain calm while his commander easily leisured about at a time where his friend could be in mortal danger didn't help the situation.

"There are none." He finally answered. Renji looked up from his feet in astonishment.

"What?!" he asked, trying to keep his voice under control, but failing in many aspects. His voice reached a pitch that some may even call hysterical, and he took a step closer to his captain. "Nothing? Ichigo is in the hands of the enemy and we're making no attempt to get him out?!"

"It's not our place." Byakuya commented softly but his tone hard as stone. "Captain Commander has decided that Kurosaki Ichigo is no major asset to Soul Society, and all attempts at his rescue could only bring further damage to our side."

"And what of Orihime?" Rukia challenged. Byakuya looked to her in warning, but she made no attempt to lower her gaze.

"...Nothing has been said to retrieve her as of this point." Renji made as if to argue, but Rukia shook her head lightly. It wasn't Byakuya's decision to leave their friends to the sharks. Renji stopped himself, but only barely. If only they could speak to the Captain Commander...

But he was a stubborn man. And the only way they could get his attention would be to once again take matters into their own hands and infiltrate Hueco Mundo. Well, 'infiltrate' being used lightly.

Renji's eyes flickered from side to side. Maybe they could break in to Hueco Mundo. They'd done it before right? Who's to say they couldn't do it again? Renji's spirit was lifted steadily when Byakuya brought down the anvil.

"Of course, precautionary measures will be taken concerning any attempt to save Kurosaki Ichigo or Inoue Orihime." He didn't turn around, but Byakuya's head tilted slightly, noticing both young shinigami look up in puzzlement.

"Sir?" Renji asked unsurely. Without warning two vice captains came up behind both Renji and Rukia and cuffed them. Both friends looked to each other in astonishment, struggling from the unwanted contact.

"Nii-sama?! What's going on?!" Rukia asked, grappling for control over her new uncomfortable position.

"We cannot repeat the last incident. So for the time being both of you will stay in the prison."

"WHAT?!" Renji bellowed, shoving his elbow into Shuuhei's stomach and earning him a good shake and a scowl. Shuuhei kneed Renji in the stomach and he momentarily crouched over. "But we haven't even done anything!!" he protested. Shuuhei was shoving him out of the room while Renji was digging his heels in the ground, desperately trying to get an answer out of his Captain before he would leave.

"Take them away." Byakuya settled his gaze on the scenery before him as his sister and his vice-captain were taken away with chains and objections.

He looked out at the foliage before him and settled his stare onto a small leaf. It floated in the wind, carefully managing through the tufts of wind and dust before finally settling in the small pond. It spun in small slow circles, and just when Byakuya was becoming bored of the sight, a rock fell from the top of the water fall and smashed down onto the leaf; taking it down with it to the bottom depths of the little blue pond. Byakuya sighed and turned away from the window.

It was only a leaf.

* * *

A knock was heard at the door, and Ichigo growled his discontent.

"Unless you plan on letting me out I suggest you DON'T come IN." he emphasized the last part, and even ventured as to lift his head from his pillow to shout at the newcomer. He was ignored, and as he slammed his face back into his pillow, someone entered the room. The smell of overcooked chicken wafted through the fabric of Ichigo's pillow, and he held back the desire to throw up. He'd only had a few servings of the dish before, but burned chicken got old.

The tray was pushed forward to a few feet from his bed, and Ichigo grumbled in his pillow with irritation. His hackles raised, he lifted himself from his lying position and lashed out his arm. He hit the tray from the bottom up, causing the blackened chicken to fly into the air and land far away from Ichigo. Ichigo glowered like an angry child and lay back on his bed, not even bothering to look at the arrancar that brought him the meal.

"Now Ichigo-kun, I brought this all the way over for you. How rude to throw it away. There are starving children in Africa you know."

Ichigo's ear perked up uncomfortably and he instantly brought himself to his knees, whipping his head in the direction of the voice. He looked up to see Aizen, smiling lightly and drumming his fingers on his arm like a parent that could predict the actions of their child from rooms apart. Ichigo got over his initial shock before growling.

"Oh? Now see, some food would have done you good. A cranky boy needs his nutrition." Aizen reprimanded.

"I'm not CRANKY." Ichigo retorted, and Aizen laughed his disbelief.

"Well Ichigo-kun, I won't force you to eat that chicken." Aizen nodded his head in the direction of the fallen chicken, now covered in carpet hair that attached itself to the watery sauce. "But let's make a deal." Ichigo squinted at Aizen in suspicion. Men like Aizen weren't to be trusted. Men with too much power and idleness were the breeders of misfortune. "For every meal you don't eat, we won't feed Orihime either."

"What?!" Ichigo stood to his feet and shook his fists. "How is that a _deal_?!"

"Did I say deal?" Aizen asked, mostly to himself and looking up to the ceiling as if in light thought. "I meant to say threat. My mistake."

"You've been making a lot of those lately." Ichigo snarled and Aizen only laughed.

"If you think that's going to offend me you'd be wrong. The same insult can only do so much after a time. Of course, someone as easily offended as you probably wouldn't realize that." Aizen smirked and Ichigo trembled angrily. "Well? Will you eat or not?"

"I'll eat it after you leave." He growled, and Aizen shook his head, sighing.

"And how would I know you've eaten it?" he inquired.

Ichigo scoffed. "It'll be gone, that's how." He responded obviously.

"And how will I know that haven't flushed it down the toilet?" Ichigo started, but came up with no response. He stared Aizen down, and the older man merely looked at him with patience. Ichigo yelled out a roar of anger and then swooped down and picked up the chicken. He ripped the skin with his teeth and gnashed it between his jaws sloppily. Aizen would have been disgusted if he hadn't have been so pleased with himself.

"Happy?" Ichigo asked, sarcasm heavy and jagged.

"Ecstatic." Aizen replied and then sat down at the small table to the right of the room. Ichigo watched him curiously and Aizen pulled something out of his sleeve. He jumped, but seeing it was only a deck of cards, ruffled his forehead together curiously. "Would you like to play some cards, Ichigo-kun?"

* * *

Author's Note: Sorry for the late update! Big Day! Whoo, 13 chapters done! What an accomplishment. I feel as though I've cleaned out an entire room...with the rest of the house still a mess. Yikes, so much to do...Ah!

So I put Grimmjow in there, mostly because I love him. His appearance really had no other purpose. .

No, they aren't going to play strip poker. Trust me, if I could find a way for them to, I would, but nothing comes to mind. :sadness: But I will make some kind of catch to the game.

Now what can you look forward to...?

Well, I'd like to put Mizuiro and Keigo in there. More of the training group (Urahara, Chad and Uryu) as well as Tatsuki and Yoruichi. Orihime is due for an appearance.

And I turned 18 today (w00t! It's also Pi day, White Day in Japan, Einstein's birthday, and National Potato Chip day) so I won't be able to respond to any reviews until Tuesday or Wednesday. Sorry for not responding lately, but I've been having a bad few weeks. But I'll get to that. I like responding to you guys, just to let you know I'm listening (Frasier—good show)

Oof, and this is for 'ceres': I'll try to keep it going. I'll probably end up updating slowly like you said, but I am taking a two month trip this summer to Mexico, and we won't have a computer there. So...I'll try to get to the juicy part soon. Or something. O.o;

Man, Senior Quotes are hard! So much to say, and only 30 words...

Well, that's it. If I keep talking I'll just go off on tangents. So look forward to the next chapter! Bye bye!


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

"So uh, what should we do?" Keigo asked uncertainly.

"Call the police?"

"WHAT?!" he shouted, hyperactive mode once again taking hold of the young man. "CALL the POLICE?! They'll think WE did it!"

"Yes well, I think it would look worse if someone else came along and saw us near Tatsuki's unconscious body." Mizuiro pointed out logically.

Keigo scratched his chin and his eye flickered about nervously. "True. But maybe...maybe we could drag her body onto someone's doorstep with a note tied around her neck, telling them to take her to the hospital!" he snapped his fingers and looked upon his friend, waiting to see the reaction to his brilliant scheme.

"Somehow I don't think that would work out very well." Mizuiro said, and rested his chin in his hands. He had checked her pulse and breathing- both were normal- so she didn't seem in any immediate danger. For all Misuiro knew, Tatsuki was merely a very deep sleeper that happened to get her kicks in falling asleep in deep forests early in the morning. People did stranger things during the stressful times of critical school tests. It was in fact the latest gossip that Ichigo and Orihime had run off to the states to elope in Vegas. And that was one of the tamer rumors.

However Mizuiro doubted his idle thought. Her symptoms resembled that of a coma, and Mizuiro knew that comas could be dangerous. She needed medical attention, as quickly as possible. Of course, speaking of Ichigo, Mizuiro suddenly realized that his father was a doctor in his own practice with a clinic inside their house. Bringing Tatsuki there would cause minimal ruckus and better medical attention, seeing as Tatsuki and Ichigo were fairly close friends. Keigo shook violently next to Mizuiro, hopping up and down with morbid tension. He muttered nondescript comments on how he'd never survive in the big house and how he'd never gotten the chance to see any tail.

"I have an idea. Why don't we bring her to the Kurosaki Clinic?" Mizuiro suggested smartly. Keigo looked at his friend blankly. Once the thought had settled in, he clapped his hands enthusiastically and jumped up and down again.

"Great! I always knew we were friends for a good reason!" Keigo yelled happily and waved his arms around.

Mizuiro shook off his friends small insult and grabbed hold of Tatsuki's feet. "Well let's go. She needs medical help as soon as possible."

"Right!" Keigo said and rushed to pick up Tatsuki's shoulders. Slowly and with much fumbling about, the two young men endeavored to carry their classmate out of the forest and to the Kurosaki Medical Clinic.

* * *

"Ow!" Ichigo shook his hand out and scowled at Aizen from across him. "There's no point in slapping my hand!"

"Isn't that the point of the game?" Aizen asked, eyes nearly wide in innocence.

"Well...yes and no."

"So yes?"

"No! Well, yes. But you don't need to slap it so hard." He frowned a little and resumed the game. "Besides, you're not supposed to slap _me_ but the card."

"And may I ask the point in that?" Aizen inquired seriously.

"Duh, 'Slap Jack'. If you slap the jack then you win the cards. Once you get all of the cards away from the other person you win." Ichigo explained, surprisingly patient. He did have two younger sisters after all.

"Well that's hardly an objective." Aizen said.

"Whaddya mean?" Ichigo asked, somewhat annoyed, somewhat confused.

"Well, I get much more pleasure in seeing you squirm after slapping you rather than slapping some card. This is the whole game? Seeing who has the faster reflexes? How ridiculous."

Ichigo frowned. Aizen was a terrible opponent in all of the games he'd played so far. 'Go fish' had been a disaster- he'd read Ichigo's mind throughout the whole three games and won each within a few minutes time. Next was 'Egyptian Rat Trap', and that was a whole other experience Ichigo didn't want to experience again. 'Spit' was too 'unrefined' for Aizen after learning one spit on the loser. Aizen had commented- much to Ichigo's annoyance- he had no wish to spit on Ichigo. Aizen had liked poker...for the first few minutes. Of course, it had been 'Go fish' all over again, and he was bored easily.

Now they played 'Slap Jack', seeing as Ichigo didn't really want to play 'War' with the man. It was too reminiscent. 

"So then what do you _suppose_ we do? I don't want you slapping me any more."

"Any other games you know?" Aizen proposed. He leaned back into his seat with relaxed boredom. He didn't really have anything else to do at the moment, but this wasn't satisfying his interests very much.

"Um...how about a card trick?" Ichigo asked, completely out of ideas. He couldn't remember how to play 'Old Maid'.

Aizen merely raised his eyebrows, but didn't stop Ichigo, which in turn he took to be a sign of agreement. 

"Okay, pick a card, and don't show me." Ichigo fanned out the cards in front of him, and Aizen prevented himself from sighing- barely. He picked one from the spread out deck and looked at it: 2 of hearts. "Okay, put it back." Aizen inserted it back into the spread and did let out a much-needed sigh. He knew what Ichigo was planning, and didn't care to stay awake for it. "Alright." Ichigo put the cards into 4 groups of thirteen putting them into flower like arrangements and eliminated two groups. He put the groups next to his elbow and continued his process of elimination. Next he put out 2 groups of six and 3 of seven. He eliminated one group of seven and one of six. Ichigo presumed to get rid of smaller and smaller groups, until Aizen wasn't quite sure Ichigo knew what he was doing. Finally Ichigo was left at two cards, and lifted the one on his right.

"Is this your card?" he asked, somewhat haughtily, knowing he had the right one. Unfortunately, he actually _didn't_ have the right card.

"No. That is not my card." Ichigo scrunched his eyebrows together and looked at the card- the ace of clubs.

"This isn't your card? You're lying!" he accused angrily.

"Believe what you will but that isn't my card. I had the—"

"No! Don't tell me! I'll get it. Okay, is _this_ your card?" he held up the left one and Aizen gave Ichigo a pathetic look. 

"No. It is not." He grinned a little and Ichigo looked baffled. He shuffled through the remainder of the cards.

"Uhhh..." Ichigo shuffled through them and mentally tried to retrace his steps. He'd seen Keigo do it in class one time, and he figured it was pretty simple. I mean, if Keigo could do it, why couldn't Ichigo?

He did all that he could to remember something he may not have caught, but he was stuck. Just what was it about magic tricks were so hard anyway? Ichigo mumbled to himself mentally.

"Is this your card?" he asked Aizen hopefully.

"No."

"This one?"

"No."

"This?"

"Yes actually."

"Really?"

"No." Ichigo frowned, mouth twisted in resentment, and Aizen merely smiled back pleasantly. As always, Ichigo never failed him. One way or another, the young man managed to amuse him. Uncanny really. Ichigo wouldn't stop however. Down to the very last card he put it before Aizen and asked him the very question 'Is this your card?'. To each, Aizen refused.

"Okay, now I know you're lying. I've gone through every card, and you've said no to every one. Admit it, I got it right the first time, jerk." He said, hoping to coax a guilty verdict out of the man.

"No, you haven't asked me about every card."

"What? Which one am I missing?" he asked, and looked about him including under the table.

"This one." Aizen said, hiding a smile very well while taking out the 2 of hearts from his jacket sleeve. Ichigo gaped at him open-jawed, and Aizen smiled slightly, taking in the simple gullibility of him.

"But—when did you--?" 

"Simple enough." Aizen said modestly, throwing the card on the table.

"But—you—" Ichigo stopped and glared at Aizen. "You tricked me."

"You called it a card trick did you not?" Aizen asked, shrugging his shoulders and smiling.

Ichigo opened his mouth in protest, and then stopped midway. He closed his mouth and shrugged his shoulders in admittance and defeat. "I don't like you."

"And it was so hard to tell before." Aizen raised his head and Ichigo merely stole an angry glance at him. Aizen chuckled and leaned forward. "So Ichigo, tell me about yourself."

"What's to tell?"

"Anything you wish."

"Okay, how about the time where I was kidnapped from my home and was threatened to stay here on pain of death?"

"Well I've already heard that one. How about a new story?" Ichigo growled, not liking the way Aizen was making fun of him and turned his body away from Aizen. Aizen however, took this as a further invite. "Let's see...your family? You seem awfully fond of them." He urged, but Ichigo scoffed.

"Yeah right. I know what you're trying to do. You're trying to get me to spill information about me and my family and the Soul Society so it can help you fuel your little plan but I'm not _buying in_." Ichigo nodded his head and turned away again.

Aizen raised his eyebrows. "Ichigo, you have me quite wrong. I have no wish to get information out of you. I'm merely looking for conversation."

"You can catch a fly with honey as opposed to vinegar right? Isn't that the saying? You should know that better than anyone am I right?" Ichigo grumbled. Aizen smiled, aware of his perceptiveness- or what would be perceptiveness if that were the case.

"True enough. But the information you know won't help me. If you even have any that is. Tell me, do you know anything about the plans the Soul Society has?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Ichigo retorted. Aizen laughed and put his elbows on the table, resting his chin on his fist. He looked at Ichigo's pursed lips and tense posture, and clearly realized he wasn't going to say anything else about the matter without a little prodding.

"Alright Ichigo. Let's make a deal." Aizen held out his left hand in an open gesture, and Ichigo flicked his eyes to his hand curiously- Aizen had caught the attention of his fish. "For everything you tell me, I'll tell you something of myself. Agreed?" Ichigo didn't attempt to lessen the wrinkles in his forehead, nor did he move his head at all. He sat there, one leg crossed over one knee and thought about the proposal.

To know things; things that no one else had ever told him. He could know Aizen's real purpose here- Aizen was offering him free information! Well, not free really...well, maybe Ichigo would just stick to light subjects. Or something. He'd make it up as he went, but at least he could exchange that for valuable information. Ichigo inwardly smiled to himself, he was actually going to help the Soul Society without fighting! Who'd've thunk it?

"Fine." he said and slapped Aizen's hand in agreement. The man smirked in surprise and amusement whilst leaning forward.

"Very well. Now tell me, how is your home life?"

Ichigo stared at him blankly. Should he go for the truth? He didn't really see what Aizen could get out of just telling him his daily life with his crazy family, but from what he'd heard of Aizen, and what he'd experienced, he could find the exact opening he was looking for through any kind of defense. Who was to say he couldn't somehow move his scheme through a bit of information of his family?

"Um, well. I have a dad, and two sisters." He started. There, that was truthful...now what? Aizen looked at him intently, and it was making Ichigo nervous. He never liked it when people stared at him. "They're um...fine. Ya know. Typical family."

"Go on."

"Well um...what do you want me to say?" he asked, and Aizen could almost see the sweat forming on his forehead.

"Everything."

"Everything." He repeated. _Well that limits it down. Not_. He remarked sarcastically to himself. "Okay, well my sisters are twins. And they're very nice. Karin's more of a tomboy, and Yuzu is more like the stay-at-home-mom type. Ever since my mom—" Ichigo stopped. What the hell was he doing?! Aizen continued to look at him without even blinking and Ichigo suddenly felt as though his hakama was cutting of his breathing supply. "My dad is um, well, crazy." He paused. "But he's...no, he's just crazy." Ichigo moaned to himself and pulled his hands through his hair. "He drives everyone insane! He's ballistic! He's a lunacy! Someone just lock him up in New York 9th floor Bellevue cause he's nuts! God, do you know what his hobby is?!" he turned to Aizen, and Aizen shook his head. "Kicking me in the HEAD. How's that for a hobby?! Kicking your own son in the head! And then he eavesdrops on me ALL THE TIME. God I can barely get a break before he comes barreling in accusing me of _doing_ things to myself. I might be 17 but that doesn't mark me a pervert!" And it was for the next hour that Ichigo began rambling on about the strange yet normal behaviors that emitted daily from his father.

Aizen listened curiously and watched Ichigo rant and rave about 'the goat-faced monstrosity'. He wondered if the young man was surprised to know about what his father really was; the last stick in his Jenga constructed sanity. Probably not, he thought. Ichigo probably blinked a few times before moving on- he was a strange young man that way. As Ichigo cursed and flailed his arms, Aizen smiled and listened on. 

For a reason Aizen could never explain, Ichigo had once again completely taken away all of his boredom.

* * *

Author's Note: w00t. Once again we go somewhere with these two! I think altogether my writing is lacking in this chapter, but I think the situation semi-made up for it. Not that I'm excusing the writing, just that I got kind of lucky. I'm sure by the time I'll have gotten this out I'll have edited this thing to death, but if not let me know if there are things that I repeat too much. For instance, I think Ichigo 'furrows his brows' too much. So does everyone actually. I need to find some kind of alternative to having someone under stress. But damn, Bleach characters do frown a lot. They're going to have so many wrinkles...

Ugh, okay that this point I'm just stalling for homework. But as a reference note:

9th Floor Bellevue is where (in case you haven't guessed it) the mentally disturbed get locked up. It's pretty famous.

Jenga: Well I should hope you know what that game is. If not, go to Toy R Us and buy it. It's so much fun.

Yes, the 2 of hearts is symbolic. I really should've gone into AP Lit, I would've kicked symbolism's ass.

And that's it. I think. Oh well...homework...Oh! (Aha) but wait!

Next chapter will have more of the Tatsuki/Keigo/Mizuiro scene and of course, more Aizen/Ichigo. And within the next few chapters I need to bring in some Captains (about time really)! I'd been thinking about making the chapters longer but at the rate I'm updating, I figure I'm going pretty fast anyway. One chapter a week is pretty fast- and I speak from experience. It's sad when none of my authors update. I'll go cry now. While doing my homework.

Fine I'll shut up.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Yoruichi arched her back and yawned obnoxiously at the sun. She sniffed about her, eyes barely open from her long sleep. She grumbled to herself complaints on how trees really should be more comfortable after sleeping in them for 100 years. Maybe she was just getting old, but she liked to think that the trees were the only ones at fault.

"Ahem." A deep female voice came from above Yoruichi. She had just relaxed again and was in the middle of trying to remember her dream –No, Miss Barista, I can't drink my toffee nut latte without the sprinkles!- when Tatsuki blocked the warmth of the sun. She wrinkled her nose as she remembered her business and opened one eye lazily. "Where'd you put my body?" Tatsuki asked annoyed.

"What do you mean? It's right where you left it." she mumbled unhappily and pointed in the vague direction of where she'd last seen it. Of course, seeing that it wasn't there now did more than shock her. She opened both of her eyes and turned her head left, then right. Not seeing Tatsuki's immobile body anywhere in her vision she looked up at Tatsuki who was anything but a happy camper right now. "Well I'll be." She said softly.

"Damned." Tatsuki finished, though Yoruichi had no intention of saying such. She merely glared up at the young woman and pursed her tiny lips.

This was _not_ the way she had planned this morning to go.

* * *

"Well boys, believe it or not, she'll be fine." Isshin was unusually professional when saying this. More often than not Ichigo's friends usually caught the scenes when Kurosaki Isshin was terrorizing his only son and worshipping his wife's poster that hung in the kitchen. Mizuiro sighed in relief while Keigo did his happy dance- a dance that required everyone to stay at least six feet away if they wished to remain bodily unharmed.

"Thank you Kurosaki-sensei. Is there anything we can do? Should we contact her parents?" As always Mizuiro was the more responsible of the two, diligently asking to carry out his part. Besides, talking to Tatsuki's parents shouldn't take so long he'd be late for his date.

"No, no trouble there. I know her very well and I'll call her parents. You two go on and don't concern yourselves any more. You two did a good thing bringing her here fast." He complimented and put his hands in his pockets as a respectful doctor would. Mizuiro looked at the good doctor closely and saw small bags under his eyes. He inwardly sighed and worried that perhaps the doctor was in sad spirits because of his son. If that were the case...just where was Kurosaki Ichigo then?

"Yes sir..." Mizuiro trailed off uncertainly. He wanted to ask, but how? Could he bring up such a subject here and now? His daughters weren't around, and after all Mizuiro was a friend—

"Alright let's GO!!" Keigo shouted excitedly and shoved his friend out the door. Mizuiro stumbled off of the porch and turned to look at the doctor one last time. On the surface he was smiling amiably and waving them off. As Keigo wrapped his arm about his friend and began dragging him back to the street screaming about his new found freedom and the power of karma Mizuiro saw the altogether slack of Isshin's posture. What had once been a strong confident man now was replaced by someone whose arms were lax, shoulders slipped, and face muscles were sagging.

Just what was going on in the Kurosaki family? And could it be related to the goings-on that had occurred only months before?

Keigo yapped his mouth without stinting as Mizuiro pondered this. Keigo spoke of girls that would flock him because of his chivalry as Mizuiro planned to hash things out once more with the man that knew more than everyone on the human planet combined.

And at the very same moment, Urahara Kisuke suddenly had a very **bad** feeling that things were going to get worse- so much worse- for him in a very short period.

"First Ichigo, now all his friends too? Isshin fell into the nearest chair next to Tatsuki and sighed. "What did I do to earn such an _influential_ kid?" he asked himself somewhat jokingly, yet sincerely somber. He looked at Tatsuki with troubled eyes and sighed again, stretching his limbs and closing his eyes. "What is this? The Children's Crusade?" he asked himself with a stern chuckle and called on his spiritual pressure to get in contact with the one he needed to speak with.

Ribbons centered around him and he looked for the one he desired. With age and experience he selected one and tugged.

"Kisuke!" he called.

"Yes?" a happy voice responded, if somewhat exhausting sounding.

"You missing something?" he asked.

"...I don't believe so." He said, somewhat confused.

"Really? 'Cause I just happen to have a body of a young girl delivered here just this morning. She was found unconscious in the middle of the woods, alone. She also happens to have her _soul_ missing. You wouldn't know anything about that now would you?" he asked. Urahara was silent, and Isshin took it to be a sign of guilt. "You couldn't even find a mod soul? What're thinking Kisuke?"

"I...am afraid I don't know what you're speaking of. Who is this young girl you have?" he asked, and Isshin was almost startled by the man's innocence in the matter. Of course, he was a good actor.

"Don't play around Kisuke! Tatsuki is here right now! Unconscious and soulless. What is this, the goddamn Kids' Crusade? Don't you know what to stay on the other side of the line?" Isshin was angry, and understandably so. It was one thing for his own son to be in danger, but his friends too?

"Isshin, I can honestly say that this is not of my doing. But I do know the master behind it." Urahara's voice dropped in pitch and rose in irritation. "I'll take care of it shortly."

"Good."

"And Isshin?"

"Yeah?"

"Would you be interested in buying a new product of mine? It's an innovative little gadget that will guarantee your mod soul to be perfectly in sync with your own personality whilst—" Isshin cut off the connection immediately and groaned. Hadn't he escaped all of this years ago?

"Sorry Misaki." He mumbled, and fell into a nice slumber as the sun rose and shone through the curtains, shining on his unconscious patient with a glow only the heavens could translate.

* * *

" 'And for the last time!' I tell him, 'It wasn't me that punched a hole through the roof!' I mean, come on! If you see a huge gaping hole in the roof, you automatically blame it on your son? How would I even get onto the roof anyway? I can't fly! And what purpose would I have to even punch a hole through the roof?! And wouldn't I even have some kind of bruise on my hand?!" Ichigo's face was red and worn out by the hour's end. He had completed his seething about his father's crazed mind workings and finally rested in his seat and took a very much needed breath. He leaned back his head and shut his eyes, bringing his hands over his face in a cleansing manner. He supposed the one good thing about this place was that at least his father wasn't there to bug the hell out of him.

This place. Oh, right. He was sitting in front of Aizen describing the inter-workings of his household. Aizen, his enemy. Aizen, the master planner. Oops. He brought his head back up slowly and turned his head in the direction of the wall. Discreetly he moved his glance to Aizen; the man seemed even more relaxed than Ichigo was. He was gazing at Ichigo with his usual half-smile and glimmering eyes. His eyebrows were raised in enjoyment and Ichigo could tell he was getting a kick out of this.

And he was, very much so. Without so much as a word of prompting or encouragement from Aizen, he'd spilt out his and his father's entire relationship- which comprised mostly of his father haranguing him with ridiculous accusations and many a kicking to the head. Of course Aizen knew there was much more beyond that. On some level he could tell Ichigo admired his father. For what he wasn't sure, but the affection was there. Father figures were an important part of growing up and maturing, and Ichigo had gotten the brunt of the whole deal. With his father's immaturity came Ichigo's responsibility and with Isshin's close attention came Ichigo's tendency for loyalty.

He could see the stare Ichigo was giving him now, close to contempt but closer to self-flagellation. Ichigo's eyes brightened suddenly and he lifted himself up from his chair.

"Hey! You promised you'd tell me something about you now!" he pointed his finger and grinned wildly. Ichigo mentally congratulated himself on his memory until Aizen chuckled. Aizen chuckling was never a good thing in Ichigo's book. "And it better be good! I talked for an hour so you have to match that."

"When did we make that agreement? I never asked you to speak for so long. You indulged yourself, and there was no encouragement on my part. I'll tell you something about me, but it won't be nearly as wonderful as your own performance, I can assure you." Aizen had the amazing talent of complimenting someone and insulting them in a most charming manner. It was something Ichigo was beginning to loathe.

"Fine." he growled low in his throat and sat back in his seat. "But it still better be good."

"Very well. Anything you prefer?" Aizen invited.

Ichigo sat back and thought. His mouth was brought forth into a pursed thoughtful pout and his knee tapped ever so lightly on the edge of the table. "What's your plan to become God or whatever?" he asked, hoping to get something other than a laugh. Unfortunately he received nothing more.

"Nice try." Aizen chortled. "Okay...my favorite color is white."

Ichigo blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice.

"What?! Whatta rip off! Uh-uh, I don't think so! You better back that up with something!"

"I like it because it's cleansing. It's a representation of everything in the world combined. Doesn't it seem remarkable that if you were to mix all of the colors together in paint you would get a horrendous gray color, while if you bring together all of the colors of the spectrum in pigments, you get a brilliant shade of white? To think that everything can come together in such purity...Doesn't that strike you as interesting?"

There was a slight pause as Ichigo wondered to himself if Aizen meant that as a rhetorical question.

"Well, I always liked red myself." He said quietly, unsure if his comment was welcome. Aizen eased his gaze at Ichigo, smile becoming wider and sincerer while his intent became sharper and clearer. Ichigo looked at him with wide brown eyes and with his unruly orange hair, looked most like that of a puppy gone through a hairdryer. His eyes were large and his mouth slanted sideways, taking on an impression of unsure acceptance.

Aizen rose from his seat and moved over closer to Ichigo. He reached out his hand and touched Ichigo's cheek, cupping the side of his face. Ichigo jumped back a bit from surprise, but Aizen caught his chin and brought Ichigo's eyes to meet his own. Ichigo stared back, confused and curious, and Aizen smiled at him.

"Yes, red's a nice color too." He brought his hand back up and lightly rubbed his thumb against the young man's soft cheek. Aizen would bet big money that Ichigo shaved not more than 3 or 4 times a week; such soft skin on such a rebellious jaw could only fit on the one Kurosaki Ichigo. Aizen pat his cheek caringly and let his hand fall to his side. He brought himself back up to standing position and turned to leave. "It's bold and a bit obnoxious, but somehow endearing." He looked back at Ichigo, who was still looking at him with an uncomfortable sense of oddity. "Only red can pull that off." He flashed his brilliant pearly smile once more and left Ichigo in his room.

Ichigo sat back and put his arms behind his head.

Well, that had been weird. What was that anyway? Ichigo scoffed to himself nervously. He wasn't much of a touchy feely person to begin with, and the only friend he had that could get away with pulling something like that would be Orihime. Aizen was a weird guy, Ichigo thought to himself. Just how was it that the man could see some kind of philosophical point in every pointless piece of crap that came into his view?

Ichigo sighed and shook his head, getting rid of his current train of thought. He brought himself out of his seat and lay on his back on the ground. Bringing his knees up and hands behind his ears, he began his usual ritual of working out before he went to sleep. After all, he had nothing better to do.

* * *

"I'd like to go on a walk today." Orihime affirmed. Ulquiorra looked at her with his usual stoic expression. He frowned, mentally of course, and sighed sharply.

"I'm afraid I can't allow that." He responded, moving no other muscles than the 42 surrounding his lips.

"Why is that?" Orihime asked. She balled her fists together and bore into him with fierce and wanting silver orbs. "I was always allowed that, so long as I was accompanied last time. Why hasn't Aizen called me? Isn't it about time he asked something of me?"

"Aizen-sama has no need for your assistance at this time." Ulquiorra said diligently. Orihime let out a sharp sigh herself, and wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"This isn't right. Something's out of place here. Just what's going on? Why can't I leave my room?" she asked, somewhat sternly. Orihime was angry and cornered; two such things that were always lethal in a woman. Ulquiorra studied her for a moment before turning to face the door. He walked away from her briskly and Orihime stepped closer as well, hoping against the odds he would actually take her out of this dismal room.

"Wait here. I will go to ask Aizen-sama if I might direct you about the halls for some time." He barely tipped his head to her as he left and exited her room. And naturally, just as he stepped out the door someone was waiting for him.

"Ulquiorra." A tall big breasted woman stood before him. Her voice was strangely clear despite the shirt she wore that covered all of her face up to her high cheekbones.

"Halibel." He responded monotonously.

"I'll watch for any intruders." She said shortly and kept her relaxed yet powerful stance next to the prisoner's door. Ulquiorra nodded his consent and walked on. Halibel was one arrancar he needn't worry about or waste time talking useless words to. Of them all, Halibel was one he could almost trust.

Ulquiorra walked out of Halibel's range of vision shortly, turning a corner and heels clicking deftly into silence. Due to her collar it was impossible to be sure, but if her vaguely scrunched eyes gave any indication Halibel was smiling. With a swift turn of the knob, Halibel opened the door and walked into the room of the forgotten prisoner.

* * *

Author's Note: Bum bum bum! What will happen?? Aha. A kind-of cliffhanger. So I think the ending of Aizen leaving the room was a bit weak, but I'd like your input. I personally believe that Ichigo isn't the type to think about things very hard unless provoked. But...

I've been known to be wrong more than once. Aha.

Soon...soooooooon...I will bring in the captains. Damnit. Too much, but at least I'm going somewhere. I've been ignoring all other writings I should concentrate on. Yikes. Oh well, this is by far my most popular work so this takes priority.

Next chapter I really want to put Renji and Rukia in there—Jail birds!! XD I love that. Not to mention I need to put Toshi back in the mix... And Tatsuki issue needs to be resolved. And of course Orihime. So it may be two weeks until we see Ichigo and Aizen. But don't worry, if I don't have them in the next chapter, I'll dedicate an entire chapter after that for them. Fangirl's honor.

And to 'Loonely': You totally scared me! I read the first part and I thought "AH! I suck!" but then I read the rest of it and was completely relieved. I swear, my heart skipped a beat. So, glad you liked it though. :D

Man, my back's going out on me again. Ugh. It sucks being old. XP

Any Hueco Mundo Cup fans? Shout out, Alex and Jose rock. Yay for Uryu being in love with Harry Potter. So funny. Okay, so reviews again are very nice, but I don't mean to pressure you. I just like hearing from you guys.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

"All the live long day..." Renji hummed to himself half-heartedly. Rukia once again was quiet, and there wasn't much to do in a jail cell. He didn't even have a metal cup to run along the bars with. He sighed dejectedly and scoffed to himself. Damn Ichigo. What the hell was he doing getting kidnapped by Aizen for anyway?

He wondered vaguely if he was having a better time than he was at the moment. It'd be just like him- in the worst of a situation and _still_ having a better time than Renji. He looked over in the general direction of Rukia's cell. Not even her finger drumming was detected. _Maybe she's asleep._ Renji thought before attempting to shout out to her. Something pulled on his stomach and he grimaced. _Or maybe she's thinking._

He leaned his head against the cold metal of the bars and strained his ears, trying to detect the gears of his friend's brain clinking slowly. For Rukia was thinking, old friends have their semi-telepathy after all, and she was thinking hard.

Rukia was damn tired of jail.

She'd had been in jail long enough to last her a lifetime, and being in one again didn't help her mood. The ground was hard, the bed was harder, and the dust piled up quickly only to be spread around by the fourth squad janitor every day or so. She was tired of sneezing, she was tired of freezing, and she was tired of the color gray. It got old. Though the color did remind her of a certain friend of hers.

Orihime...and stupid ICHIGO! What the hell was he thinking getting kidnapped by Aizen? She mentally growled to herself and hoped that maybe by now he'd at least gotten away somehow, or at least tried to free Orihime. Ichigo was a strong guy, and if anyone knew it best it was Kuchiki Rukia. For some reason the two had become automatic friends, though of course it was more for Rukia that she'd found someone she'd lost a long time ago. With Ichigo, she'd been able to redeem herself. Like Kaien-dono had bequeathed unto her, she'd coached and encouraged Ichigo. She couldn't quite forgive herself for some time, using Ichigo to feed her guilt, but she'd become accustomed to it. It wasn't as if Ichigo served that purpose alone. Ichigo was someone she truly believed in; he'd given her strength and much more. He'd given her the real Byakuya, a man she could really call her brother now, he'd given her hope in times of failure, and most importantly he'd given her her best friend back. She turned her head to the side in the general direction of Renji's cell.

"Oi, Rukia?" he called, gruff voice muffled probably from sticking his mouth on his knee for too long.

"Yeah?"

"Let's break out and save Ichigo's pathetic ass."

Rukia gazed dully at the wall, memories passing over her eyes like dust on the windshield. She closed her eyes and sighed, letting her hands fall to her sides.

"About time you thought of that numbskull."

* * *

Zaraki rumbled in his throat impatiently. He hated meetings- they weren't any fun. He liked chopping things, cutting things, making things bleed by opening flesh using the sheer force of his own strength. But this was a different bleeding. This kind of bleeding came from Zaraki's abused brain being forced to listen to the old man yammer and his eyes wanting to explode inside of his skull from having to stare at that _freak_ Mayuri for so long. Why the dude needed to paint his face every morning in order to poke things with some needles was beyond the 11th division Captain.

He sighed loudly, making sure everyone in the room- even the deaf old man- knew of his discomfort and boredom. The old man paused for a moment, like a teacher letting the other pupils take notice of the dunce in the back row, before continuing.

Just what the hell was the point to these damn meetings anyway? he mentally snarled. He should just rip them all to pieces. Force them to fight him. He looked at Komamura, the fuzzball of the ninth division and smiled a smile Hannibal Lector would applaud. He'd fought the bastard before and it hadn't been so bad. Maybe the guy had even stepped it up a notch since that time...Maybe if Zaraki just whipped out his zanpakutou right here and now and just_ went at it_ everyone would be too shocked to even stop him. Or better yet, they'd actually _try_ to stop him, and they'd start fighting him too.

His grin grew wider and wider by the second, and Ukitake was seen in the back mentally sweat-dropping.

"--And of course, there's the matter of Inoue Orhime and Kurosaki Ichigo being kidnapped by the enemy—"

"Huh?" Zaraki mumbled, a sound that was amplified by the stone walls immensely.

Yamamoto cleared his throat and ignored him. "Naturally no measures will be taken- it was too risky before and it's too risky now. But about the pool requested by the fourth division—"

"We kicked their asses last time. Why not do it again?" Zaraki voiced his opinion. Yamamoto frowned, noticeable even under his large white beard and turned to the disturbance.

"Captain Zaraki. No measures will be taken. This issue has been settled on."

"By who?" he challenged, taking a half-step forward.

Yamamoto was silent. They all knew from whom the order came.

"Captain Commander sir." A deep voice came from the middle of the line. Byakuya lifted his head and looked at the Commander with his usual haughty expression- just because the man was higher ranking didn't mean Byakuya wasn't better than him in _other_ ways. "Abarai Renji and Kuchiki Rukia may try once more to retrieve them after learning of this news. Seeing as it would be impossible to not have the information relayed to them, with the knowledge that Abarai is my vice-captain and Kuchiki is the new vice-captain of the fifth division, what precautions should be made on them?"

Everyone was silent for a few moments. It was rather known that Byakuya hardly managed to stay awake during most of the meetings, and for him to speak so much all at once was something of a shock indeed. The Captain Commander leaned back into his seat and nodded his understanding.

"Both must be taken to the prison holds. Captain Kuchiki, I trust you will take care of this after this meeting is over."

Byakuya nodded his consent and went back to closing his eyes, content to relax his head once more and ignore the rest of the proceedings.

Zaraki gave the man a queer look and grumbled under his breath. That guy had 'fishy' written all over him. Just what was his game...? Zaraki let out an exasperated breath and was the first to leave, exiting right in the middle of the last syllable of the old man's last sentence. He jumped to the nearest roof and there awaited his own vice-captain, a small young girl with hair most alike to bubblegum.

"Hiya Kenny. What's up this time?" she smiled at him and jumped on his shoulder. Zaraki remained quiet however. He scanned the Seireitei before him and caught the one, Kuchiki Byakuya, heading back to his division quarters. "We stalkin' someone today again? Who this time?" Zaraki shushed her and concentrated. He took off quickly with Yachiru murmuring short giggles into his ear. He stopped when he got a close view of the man and saw he wasn't alone. Renji and Rukia- always together now –were with him. After a few minutes, both looked outraged and upset, and that was when the guards came. Both exited the room rather dramatically as Zaraki yawned and waited for the good part. Byakuya walked over to his window and looked out over his small paradise-like display. Everything arranged perfectly and nitpicked, just like the guy's hair. He looked out, completely cool and confident as was always his demeanor, and Zaraki wondered if perhaps he'd misread the man's intentions. His conscience seemed sound, and he looked almost self-righteous as he watched his stupid waterfall pond thingy- Zaraki never cared for such displays, he'd pick a gym over a park any day. Zaraki muttered to himself, cursing anything he could think of that was to blame for this misconception when he stopped. He looked down, back at the captain and saw distinctly a sharp stare in his direction. For the briefest of moments their eyes met, and just as quickly and unexpectedly as it had happened it was over. Byakuya removed himself from the window and retired to another part of the room.

Zaraki smiled, the defining feature on his demon-like face. He'd just been given a go for breaking out some jail birds.

Tweet tweet.

* * *

She knew she had to do it, but she really didn't want to. And when she said 'really', she meant in ten thousand karmic Buddhas couldn't convince her to do it by threatening her with her next million lives being served as various fungi.

But of course, she didn't quite have any other choice. After all, this wasn't _her_ body we were talking about, it was her _trainee's_. And her trainee was steaming out of her ears at this point.

"You _lost_ my _body_?!" she asked, face becoming redder by the moment.

"Technically I couldn't have lost it. I never even handled it. I wasn't the one who put it there if you remember correctly."

"No, you were just the one _responsible_ for it!" she bellowed. Yoruichi cringed a bit at the volume and thought of her options. Option one: Find the body on her own...Right. As if she could find a missing body- she couldn't even find her favorite pair of underwear. Option Two: Get help from Kisuke. And that was a definite NO. She wasn't going to go to Kisuke and hear a long lecture on the responsibilities of training, and then have him berate her for doing a worse job at it than he after forcing him to train Uryu and Chad. Option Three:...Did Tatsuki really even need her body? She asked herself, but looking to her young companion and her pomegranate colored face she could guess that even though technically she didn't _need_ her body, she wanted it pretty badly.

So that settled it. They were going for option one.

"Well, let's not just dawdle here. Let's get going and find that body." She jumped off of the tree she'd been leaning on and no more than three steps after she'd done so was she interrupted.

"Looking for something?" an inquiring voice asked her. Although it was hard to tell on the feline, her mouth instantly turned into an annoyed pout. Her tail dropped suddenly and she stopped walking.

"Why do you ask?" she questioned back, voice deep with irritation and defiance.

"Well, I just so happen to know that a certain someone's body was found at the Kurosaki Medical Clinic this morning. Apparently she was found in the woods all alone and completely unconscious. A certain Arisawa Tatsuki. That name ring a bell, or am I just getting old?"

"You're old. Very old. Now butt out; if there happens to be a certain Arisawa Tatsuki in the Kurosaki Medical Clinic it isn't any of _your_ concern is it? Unless you happened to be the one that put her there?"

"No, no. It wasn't _me_."

"Well, that's settled then." She stated firmly, making sure the conversation was at its end. There was a mental pause as Kisuke recovered from a short mind burp.

"You're buying the coffee next week." He said randomly, and Yoruichi scoffed.

"I'll do no such thing." She claimed and cut off the connection before Kisuke had any chance to retort his objection. She turned to Tatsuki, who was tapping her foot rather irritatingly on the ground and looking at Yoruichi expectantly. "Alright I've found your precious body. Let's go get it before someone else does." She said and led the way.

Urahara stood dejectedly in the hallway of his shop. That conversation hadn't turned out the way he had intended it to. Wondering where he'd gone wrong, he shook his head and sighed. That woman just never let him win one did she? He was heading back to his room when Jinta and Ururu came stomping out into the hall, the frightened young girl was being chased by the eager young boy. They barreled past the shop owner and in so doing stomped on his foot once each.

Urahara howled in pain but no one listened to his wails. For the umpteenth time that week, Urahara cursed his luck and asked whatever controlled the universe and his precious existence to _stop_ cursing him. That was when he heard a commotion from his storage room that sounded very much like all of the glass Chappy the Bunny figurines crashing to the floor.

Urahara silently cried to himself, but was interrupted by a knock at his shop door. He glared shortly in the direction of the fallen figurines- the kids would just have to work for them- before heading to the door. He grabbed his fan out of his pocket and brought it in front of his mouth, wiping away his glare and closing his eyes to bring about his usual shopkeeper smile.

"Bonjour!" he said cheerfully as he opened the door. "Welcome to Urahara's Shop! Can I be of any assistance to you today?" he asked in what he always thought was a friendly inviting voice. He looked down at the doorstep, apparently his customer was smaller than he, and found someone he knew vaguely well.

"Hello Urahara-san. I'm here to ask you a few questions about Kurosaki Ichigo." Mizuiro asked seriously with a polite smile on his face. Keigo sulked behind him and kicked the dirt on the ground, dirtying the mat that covered the doorstep and slightly ticking off Urahara. Urahara's smile had vanished from his face, leaving a perplexed and surprised expression. Luckily, his hat and fan hid most of his astonishment, but Urahara wasn't much comforted by that anyway. Just how many surprises was he to receive? He sighed, defeated, and sagged his shoulders. Mizuiro continued to smile up at his information center concerning the spiritual world, and to Urahara, didn't look like he was going to take "scram!" for an answer.

"Alright. Come in and I'll answer some of your questions." He said, halfway sullen and quite near moping.

"Hey Urahara!" Jinta came running up to him and screeched to a halt just before his feet. "Chad broke the ladder! They can't get out!" he said in an unnecessarily loud voice, and if Urahara had looked closely he would have seen Jinta's cheeks red from laughter.

"Oh, isn't _that_ a shame." He commented sarcastically and walked on, leading a curious Mizuiro and a sulking Keigo. "Just fix it."

However before he'd even finished his sentence Jinta took off down the hall, orders forgotten. For the time being however, Urahara didn't really mind. He was a simple man, and handling one thing at a time was all he ever asked for.

* * *

Author's Note: Ah man, feminine duties called this morning and totally kicked my ass XP

Sometimes I hate being a girl.

Alright, as promised I shall make the entire next chapter dedicated to Ichigo and Aizen. The trouble is that I want to do a bit of a time skip, and I can't do that with all of the loose ends I have here. Man, making stories with plot can be complicated when you're really only in it for the sex. Aha.

So my plan is that it will be awhile before anything comes out of that nature, but once that's in motion, you'll see a bit more of it. I just want to do it right. Aha, 'do it' takes on a whole new connotation there. XP But also, to warn you, I won't be going into detail. Kissy-kissy is fine, but beyond that...What can I say? I'm a bit more conservative in that area. I feel like even characters need their privacy.

FYI, I do love Urahara, and I think that's why I'm so mean to him. It's just so easy.

And hey, you know for awhile I totally wanted to bring Luppi back into this? I hate the little guy, so much so that I wanted to put him in here just to beat the crap out of him. Figuratively of course.

So that's pretty much it. Look forward to some Aizen/Ichigo interaction and development, and I'll see you next week. :D


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

Aizen wasn't one to hide his regard, but with all of his underlings running amuck with nothing better to do that watch their master like a pack of dogs carefully watching their owner eat a large t-bone steak he _did_ have to watch everything he did. It wasn't really a problem of course, after all, Aizen was used to putting on acts and carefully managing his actions like a cardiothorasic surgeon working on their best friend's heart. He was used to planning and over-cautiously conceived actions, but for some reason, it specifically bothered him that he couldn't see his prisoner as often as he wanted.

Hueco Mundo wasn't the best place for entertainment, and when a show came into the place, it was all he could do to keep his troops from visiting. Everyone wanted a piece of Ichigo. They'd all known, heard or seen his first break in, and now everyone wanted to kill him- or at least try to. Some hid, knowing their chances and wisely hiding among the shadows of the dunes; others came out willingly and wanted to test their strength against the new young attribute. Aizen managed to keep them off his—_the_—new prisoner, and of course he had to make some kind of statement saying he couldn't care less about him, or be less worried about him. Going to see Ichigo two days in a row would be inexcusable. Inexcusable, and Aizen didn't do _anything_ inexcusable.

Well, in _his_ views at least- the Soul Society probably didn't feel that way. Aizen rested his hand on the window sill and looked out at the moon. It hung there lazily, having nothing better to do, much like Aizen currently. He had nothing to do, no one to fool and no one to...just, no one. He would have frowned, but he was much too practiced in smiling to actually manage it. He'd been smiling for as long as he could possibly remember. It was one of the many things he and Gin had in common, nothing to actually smile about, but smiling all the same. He tapped his fingers on the white sill and looked down at the dunes below.

But really...maybe he was looking at this the wrong way. Maybe if he _did_ visit Ichigo, it would ensure no one tried to break in there and fight him. After all, the longer he was absent, the more the Arrancar might think Aizen didn't _care_ what happened to his prisoner. They would think he was giving them a silent go to kill the young man. And Aizen couldn't have that could he? He smiled discreetly and walked away from the window with grace and practice, heading for some good old fashioned fun.

"Gaaa..." Ichigo grumbled to himself, frustrated to find his door locked. He supposed since the time he got out at first, Aizen didn't want anymore of his rooms destroyed. He wondered if he was through 'entertaining' Aizen. That jerk, what the hell was his game? Ichigo had thought about it long and hard- not willingly of course, but being put into such situations always makes people think of the one and only thing they cannot control- and he had come to a shaky conclusion. He wasn't quite sure what the guy's angle was, but he knew it wasn't to his favor.

And that was what he had so far. It was just _stupid_. What the hell was he doing here, practicing crunches in his room when the enemy was in the same place like a sitting duck on his lame throne? He should be fighting him _right now_, but no, Ichigo was stuck in a very boring room because Aizen liked the dumb color so much. Even Ichigo didn't like red so much as to make a mosque and paint every room that color. He would have imagined Aizen unimaginative, but anyone who had known of the man's plans would disregard the thought immediately. So his only answer to that was that Aizen was obsessed.

It was true enough. He wanted to become God, so he comprised a plan so elaborate and time consuming that one would say he made anal retentive look like a mild sort of habit. He liked the color white, and here he'd made a huge castle in the middle of the godforsaken desert where _everything_ was white. God, even his best friend had white hair. Or silver, close enough. Ichigo walked in circles around his bed, not exactly pacing, but definitely keeping active, keeping his blood flowing into his brain and keeping his legs from walking around without him in their antsy state.

He tugged on his shirt, long having gone back into his own body. He was at least grateful that he'd changed out of his uniform after going home. He would've been more than annoyed to have to wear his tight school uniform in such a shifty place. He was just waiting for someone to explode into his room- Grimmjow was usually the person he imagined- and try to take him out. He touched the metal of the representative badge, trying to comfort his uneasy state. He almost wanted someone to come and try to kill him.

At least then he'd have something to do.

He grumbled some more to himself, trying his best not to mope but again- what was there to do aside from that? He had no hollows to distract him, no friends to kick his head in, no dad to kick his head off. He clapped his hands together out of boredom and started performing himself a little hand shadow show. He made a dog, a dragon, a fish, and then tried experimenting. It was when he was making an impression of Grimmjow- the jackass, all he needed was a big mouth anyway –when he felt something was off. He looked around and there indeed he saw he had a visitor.

Aizen was standing almost directly behind him, standing more to the side to smartly hide his own shadow, and was smiling at Ichigo with the same damn smile he always smiled at him. To Ichigo, it reminded him of a jailor's smile to a prisoner who he knew was innocent. But seeing as the system didn't do anything to help those not guilty, he was merely content on having a new piece of bait to fish around with. It made Ichigo cringe automatically then tense up with false bravado, much like an inflatable chair.

"Not much to do?" Aizen asked politely and Ichigo frowned.

"You see any books around?" he asked grumpily. He was being as rude as he could without actually provoking a fight. Now that Aizen was here and right above his head, he remembered how much of a chance he stood against Aizen in a fight- close to none. Unconsciously he shook slightly from his own self-degradation but stepped back a bit and folded his arms across his chest. Aizen stood up straighter, and Ichigo found that the man towered over him quite a bit; maybe around 6-8 inches.

It bothered him.

Aizen gave a wider, even more dashing smile. "Well, maybe there's something I can do about that. Would you like some books to tide you over?"

Ichigo looked at him thoughtfully, and suspiciously, then turned away a bit. He wiggled his shoulders uncomfortably and tilted his head rebelliously. "Would you like milk with your cereal?" he muttered back. Aizen took the hint and walked over to the door.

"Very well, come with me." Surprised a tad, Ichigo widened his eyes and looked over at Aizen, who was now at the door. Boy that guy could move quickly. Ichigo shoved his hands in his jeans and lowered his head, as if protecting his neck from a vampire. He crossed in front of Aizen and the man led him around the castle with a cocky grace that made Ichigo seethe and shiver from resentment.

Just who was he? Who _was_ he? To think he was so amazing he could make all this, all this for _himself?_ What a cocky jackass! Ichigo thought crossly. He hated self-obsessed people, and Aizen topped the list. He thought himself so special that he could become _God_, and that ticked Ichigo off. He wasn't specifically religious, but he did know that if someone was going to rule over all of heaven, earth and hell with whatever dimensions in between, that it would be an insult to put Aizen at the head of the hall. The only people that thought themselves so important as to surpass all the rules were the ones that ended up abusing that power.

They turned and walked, walked and turned until finally Aizen brought Ichigo to a pair of black double doors. He merely pressed his hand against the door, and it opened automatically. The heavy doors creaked and groaned at being disturbed, but they gradually made way for the master of Las Noches, and Aizen looked down at Ichigo as the young man looked about his library with the wide eyes of a child in a candy store. Believe it or not, Ichigo liked to read. Sure he was a teenage boy, but who was to say he was an uneducated one? He moved his gaze about curiously, taking in the hundreds of volumes that lined the walls. When Aizen had said library, he was thinking more like a small personal office, not the Library of Congress. Apparently anything Aizen did, he went all out to accomplish.

Ichigo shrugged to himself, he was willing to ignore the man long enough to aid his own needs. Aizen watched Ichigo attentively as he walked around, checking every category, subject, and author. He walked over to what Aizen had categorized as philosophy, and Ichigo walked about to and fro, criss-crossing between eastern and western. He picked up a few novels, some by Shan Yu – much to Aizen surprise- and Henry David Thoreau.

"You have strange tastes." He commented, nodding at the Shan Yu book.

"Know your enemies." Ichigo quoted and Aizen chuckled. Ichigo moved on to the literature section and took out more novels than he could carry. Admittedly Ichigo was a big fan of European authors- Balzac, Dostevsky, Flaubert. Of course there were some other books he found that he'd been planning to read- Sanctuary, Stars in my Pocket like Grains of Sand, The Executioner's Song, and much more. He had so many books he resorted to dumping them on a table and before pursuing the other half of the library. He browsed through Social Sciences, picking up a feminist book for curiosity's sake, Kiss my Tiara, and a few others on social learning behavior, including the Behavioralist B.F. Skinner's Beyond Freedom and Dignity. He selected a few random books, a book on automotive construction and a few history books. He even picked out a chemistry book- he figured he at least needed to keep up with what he could concerning school.

Finally he appeared done and walked over to the table on which he'd piled his books. They took up most of the surface, and Ichigo scratched his head uncertainly. He looked around for a cart on which he could borrow and pile them on, but seeing none he sighed dejectedly and began sorting them out. Aizen walked over and checked out his selections. Inquisitively he picked up some of the books, and Ichigo took them from him harshly. He frowned and Aizen raised an eyebrow. Ichigo sniffed defiantly and slammed the book down in the 'keep' pile. Aizen's mouth played with a smile and he leaned against the table lightly.

"May I ask where you get your reading preferences?"

"No. You may not." He scoffed and continued his process of elimination. Aizen chuckled softly and uncrossed his arms, then ran his hand through Ichigo's hair.

"You remember whose books these are yes?"

"Do you ever speak in anything aside from questions?"

"Do I?" he smiled amiably and Ichigo growled. He slammed another book down and looked away from his older companion. Aizen ruffled his hair and Ichigo grabbed his hand, then shoved it away.

"Don't treat me like a child." He commanded angrily, and Aizen looked at him dubiously.

"You are a child, don't deceive yourself."

"I am not!" he shouted, eyes filled with pent up anger.

"How old are you?"

"17! Hardly a kid!"

Aizen laughed. "You're nothing but. To you humans you even claim that 18 is when you reach adulthood. You being 17, and just how old do you think I am?" Aizen leaned over and looked at Ichigo directly. The teenager squinted his eyes resentfully, and unconsciously blushed.

"How should I know?"

"Exactly. Compared to me you are a child. Now, if you're finished, I can just have someone bring all of those other books to your room later. Just bring what you can carry for now." Aizen lifted himself from his seat and walked to the door, patiently waiting to be followed. Ichigo looked at his thought out piles, and sighed with aggravation. He grabbed a few and walked over to the door quickly, wanting to get away from Aizen as soon as physically possible. He walked faster down the halls, making sure Aizen kept up. No matter how fast Ichigo seemed to go, Aizen was always there behind him, walking calmly and seemingly slowly. It never ceased to amaze Ichigo how planned out Aizen was. Ichigo exhaled in relief as he reached his room and opened his door, followed by the dumping of the books onto his table. He spread them out and wondered to himself which he should read first. He picked out The Rebels of Ireland, and put it next to his bed.

Much to Ichigo's chagrin, Aizen walked in and shut the door behind him.

"Just how long do you plan on staying?" he asked resentfully.

"Tell me Ichigo-kun, just what are you studying in school?" Aizen avoided the question completely and smiled his way closer to him. Without Ichigo even noticing Aizen bought his hand to rest on Ichigo's shoulders, lightly touching the taut muscles that were in ignorance of Aizen's contact. Ichigo was much too focused on Aizen being there in the first place than he was on what Aizen was actually doing. Aizen had the remarkable talent of doing things unnoticed. In fact, Aizen had many talents.

He rested his hand there for a good deal of seconds, nodded thoughtfully and attentively to Ichigo's complaints about school and 'cough cough, Aizen being there cough' to which Aizen smiled at. It wasn't until Ichigo moved slightly when talking about his overly suspicious teacher- sure they weren't actually going to the bathroom, but _still_- that he felt the hand on his back.

"What the hell?!" he shouted. "Respect personal space much?!"

Aizen laughed and put his hand on his shoulder. Ichigo shook it off but Aizen persisted. He grabbed Ichigo's chin and smiled while looking into his eyes.

"Shouldn't you be a little nicer to me? I am the one that holds your life in his hands."

Ichigo scoffed and straightened his shoulders. "I'm not afraid of you."

"What about Orihime? Don't you wish to see her?" he asked, and Ichigo was silent. He'd almost forgotten. It was terrible he knew, but he'd momentarily forgotten about his friend. She was locked up like a hen being forced to lay golden eggs in this white hell, and Ichigo had _forgotten_. He cursed himself mentally. After being so judgmental to Aizen for being self-obsessed, here he was running off in his mind wanting to fight people rather than get his friend out.

He was sure that Rukia would kick his sorry ass for being of no help whatsoever in such a crucial time. He didn't even have to worry about getting in! He _was_ in! Aizen smiled and played with an end of Ichigo's spikes while he was in deep thought. Apparently Ichigo was a bit more contemplative than Aizen had originally suspected. He looked at his young figure, using his eyes thoroughly in examining everything Ichigo had on display, from the top of his clean orange hair to the bottom of his old sneakers.

Ichigo was still thinking – and probably kicking himself mentally, Aizen guessed with a grin – when Aizen squeezed Ichigo's shoulder with uncomfortable familiarity and walked to the door. Ichigo's bitter brown eyes followed him to the door and Aizen looked at him sideways.

"I'll see you again Ichigo-kun. I hope you enjoy the books." And with that, Ichigo was left to wallow in his own self-loathing.

* * *

Author's Note: Wow, I actually managed to get Aizen to touch Ichigo, woot! So there's that, I kept my promise. Hope it was somewhat enjoyable, but I need to tie up some loose ends before getting them more familiar with each other.

Next chapter will have Orihime and Halibel! Yay, I think I'm going to have fun with the next chapter. So...I need a layout. I've somewhat lost my idea for the plot, and that's never a good thing. O.o;

And I know this is old news, but did you guys see those popularity polls for Bleach in chapter 308 or so? I mean, seriously, Hinamori got 6th and Hime got 8th?! And Kira? Don't get me wrong, I love the guy, but he got more votes than GIN?! I was just super pissed when Toshirou had more votes than ICHIGO! And GRIMMJOW! What the hell people? And ULQUIORRA?! As 10th?! More fanboys must have voted than fangirls.

And all the books I mentioned are real books, I didn't make them up. Um. That's all I've got for now. Bye bye.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

Orihime put her hands in her lap, nervously fiddling with her fingers and looking around the table. Across from her sat Halibel and to her right was a member of her 'fraccion' Mira Rose. She had nearly as voluptuous a body as Halibel, if not as large in the chest region. If Orihime had to categorize her by appearance alone, she would say the woman most looked like someone from the Amazon; with her large curly hair and thick muscled legs, Orihime gulped as she thought how easy it would be for the woman to crush her. To her left was a loud girl, seemingly younger than Mira Rose and Halibel, but older than Orihime, with short bowl-cut hair and a large bone horn coming out of her forehead. It made Orihime a bit uncomfortable when she bobbed her head up and down as she laughed and made fun of Mira Rose- her name was Appache.

Next to Mira Rose and Halibel was another girl, one whose name Orihime couldn't remember. She mentally scolded herself, and made sure to remind herself to find out as the game went on. Halibel was the dealer, and flipped out cards with easy practice.

"Ya know how to play girly-girl?" Appache grinned widely, narrowing her eyes at the new player. Orihime couldn't speak, the shyness from her childhood catching up with her. She shook her head and Appache gave out one short burst of laughter.

"Keep it quiet," the young woman whose name Orihime had forgotten- had it even been mentioned?- spoke up. "You sound like an idiot."

"WHAT?!" Appache bellowed and frowned a frown very similar to Ikkaku's, Orihime noticed.

"Let's begin." Halibel interjected and the five women all looked to their cards. Orihime wasn't quite sure what she was looking at. She hummed to herself softly and moved about her cards, organizing them to her preference, bidding her time. "You'll learn quickly enough." Halibel assured Orihime, and the young girl nodded, holding up her head and concentrating on the others around her.

Mira Rose put two cards face down on the table. "So, you can manage time huh? How convenient. Think you can go back to when I had my brush?"

"Yeah, your hair's higher than Aizen-sama's reiatsu!" Appache taunted.

"What was that?!" Mira Rose growled and took the cards distributed to her by her leader.

"You heard me! Aha!" Appache laughed to herself and nearly fell out of her chair. Mira Rose pointed at her and laughed her part.

"You idiot! I hope you break your—"

"Pay attention." Halibel chided in her deep voice. Both stopped their bickering and respectfully sat down correctly. They looked to their cards and put a few down each. Halibel dished out some new ones for them and then looked to Orihime. Orihime's eyes widened at being the center of attention, and not knowing the act she needed to perform. She took out two cards and put them face down. Halibel gave her two knew ones, and replaced one of her own. "Sun-sun?"

"I'm fine thank you ma'am." She said and looked down at her hand.

"Hmm." Mira Rose hummed thoughtfully, then slammed her cards down and leaned back into her seat, one arm resting on her knee and the other behind her on the chair top. "I fold." She sniffed.

"Ha! Coward!" scoffed Appache. "I raise two favors!" she said with a smile wider than the Hoover Dam.

"I'm in." Sun-sun responded while Orihime made note of her name.

"How about you girl?" Halibel asked, and Orihime looked at the others, her head tilted down to cradle her cards close to her chest.

"Um, I suppose I'll stay in."

"Very well. Ladies, lay them out." She commanded, and the four women put out their cards before them. Appache made a nice show of it, until she saw Sun-sun's cards.

"Aw, ya dumb bitch. Why do you win every time?!" she cursed and slumped in her seat as Mira Rose laughed at her comrade.

"Don't be sore. Besides, I didn't win. Don't assume so much." She looked to Halibel and Halibel nodded back. Both looked at Orihime and she sat up straighter.

"Did I win?" she asked, confusedly blinking at her five cards.

"Royal Flush. She has the power of God alright." Halibel commented and rested her elbows on the table. "Now, this is how we play the game. Whoever wins gets to have a favor from those that lose. And since Appache raised the stakes—"

"Baa." She mumbled and crossed her arms, squinting harshly at the young prisoner.

"You get to have two favors from each of us. Would you like to continue playing and cash in your favors at the end, or would you like to take advantage of them now?" she stared at Orihime, closely examining every movement of her eyebrows and every twitch of her lip. It wasn't like Halibel to become so attached to a prisoner, but there was something about the girl she liked, and if Aizen-sama wanted her to feel welcome, she may as well do the job. It wasn't like Ulquiorra was going out of this way to make her feel comfortable.

"W-well." Orihime glanced around; Mira Rose looked at her dubiously, not sure why they were wasting their time on such a girl, but going along with her respected leader. Sun-sun merely sat calmly in her seat, eyes closed and one hand lightly touching her other elbow. Appache grumbled continually, like a cat waiting for a hand to strike it. "Actually. Um, instead of a favor...I have a few questions." She looked up from her hands to Halibel hesitantly. Halibel was gazing on her with half-lidded eyes.

"I cannot tell you anything of Aizen-sama's plans." She spoke out plainly. Orihime stuttered and waved her hands back and forth defensively.

"Oh no! It's actually...well...I was wondering if you remembered...How you died?"

A silence settled in as the shock of the question rose up to their noses like the stink of a dog pissing on the coffee table rug.

"Of course if it's too personal--!" she started nervously, aware of the cold stares she was getting from Appache.

"No. It's fine. Is that all?" Halibel responded. Her two more obnoxious fraccion members looked at her with stunned expressions while Halibel turned to her quieter underling and raised her eyebrows. "Would you begin Sun-sun?"

"Gladly." She lifted her chin a millimeter or two and crossed her legs. She looked at Orihime, gazing at her with a secret sort of calculating manner. Orihime looked at her with her usual big gray eyes; Sun-sun smiled. "It began with Empress Wu."

Orihime looked at Sun-sun with captivation, staring deep into her eyes, completely transfixed. So Arrancar did actually remember their past lives?

"Empress Wu...was my enemy. She was only brought to power because she married into it. She was turned common at a young age, but was then invited to come to the household of the current Emperor to serve as a scroll keeper. There she met her future husband, a boy a year or so younger than her. After the current Emperor died, she turned to a convent and bided her time, until the emperor's son- the young man she met earlier- came for her. She was never in love with him, but she became pregnant with his child during his visit to her convent by tricking him into sleeping with her. It was quite the scandal, for no woman that belonged to the deceased emperor was supposed to be taken in by the new one. However, she had blinded him, and despite all of the horrendous gossip she was to face, she wanted the power. Empress Wu was in no way a stupid woman, in fact, she had ten times the intelligence her husband had- she called him Little Phoenix you should know. So Little Phoenix already had several wives, as was the custom in Ancient China, but he eventually- after a long process- made her his head wife. Do you know how she did it?" She asked Orihime, her smile all too ominous for her. She shook her head, and Sun-sun raised her hand, hiding her small smile.

"She did it by driving Little Phoenix's wife insane. It was a grim little world- the world of the gynaceam. No matter how high you rose, even to the top, you were never safe. Keeping the Emperor happy is much harder than one would think. Even sex isn't enough to keep a man enticed, especially when he has access to ten thousand women. A man's heart is easily swayed, and she was able to manipulate him with an unfounded knowledge. I think if I hadn't hated her so much, we could have been great friends." Sun-sun smiled and smoothed her dress. "Of course, the wife would have none of it. She'd been disgraced immensely by this whore that had come from his father's gynaceam, and it wasn't to be tolerated. The Empress gave birth to a daughter, whom she named Moon. She was a beautifully fat baby, and Empress Wu planned on giving her the utmost attention, it having been her first child. The child was strangled in her sleep by the disgraced first wife. The first wife had done her best to present Little Phoenix with a child, but had failed multiple times. When she saw how easily Empress Wu's child had come- an accidental birth as it was!- she became a little... angry. Can you understand her anger?" she asked, and Orihime made no move to answer. Her eyes were nearly popping out of her skull now and Sun-sun almost enjoyed the attention.

"She killed the child, and both the Emperor and the Empress blamed the wife. Of course, it was her fault. But if the little whore had never tampered with her in the first place—well, they had her killed." She looked down, and then looked at Orihime, a small smile playing at the end of her full lips. "I was that wife. I became resentful even in death, and caused a riot of scandals for her. She lived for a long time, outliving her husband- no- _my_ husband, and is known to be one of the most famous female dictators in history. Of course, she was also the worst mother. I may have died a scandal, but she lived it. I was murdered by the one Empress Wu, and such I became a hollow. That is my story." She lowered her gaze again, and then shut her eyes. Orihime squeezed her hands together and gulped. She'd never quite imagined...she was in the room with an historical celebrity. Sun-sun was the arch nemesis of the famous Empress Wu! "Do you have another question?" Sun-sun prodded, looking at the girl with slighted eyes, still facing her lap.

"Do you...regret your life?" she asked meekly. Sun-sun laughed.

"I lived the only way I could. Of course I harbor no ill will to Empress Wu, in fact, I'm glad of the outcome. If anything, I received the better end of the stick. She had to live to be an old woman, a hated old woman that everyone just wanted to die. She died alone you know, rotting in the hate and sadness she crafted. But in the long run, she was good for China. And here I am, in good shape and under the command of Halibel-sama. Only indirectly do I work for a man, and I would have it no other way." She straightened her back, and only now did Orihime really notice the regal air Sun-sun had at her will. She commanded a certain air of royalty, and Orihime really could see her as an emperor's wife, for however short a time. "Now, I think Appache should bring up her story, it's much lighter hearted than my own."

Now the focus was on Appache. She sneered in all her glory and opened her legs in irritation.

"Fine." she grumbled and picked her ear wax with her pinky. She looked at what she fished out and flicked it across the table, nearly hitting Mira Rose. Mira Rose cringed and growled at Appache. Appache grinned and brought her legs to rest on the table top. "Alright, here's my story. I grew up the daughter of a mafia boss in Florence, Italy." Orihime raised her eyebrows slightly, and Appache guffawed. "Yeah, I get that a lot. Lorenzo Medici, ya heard of the guy? Yeah, he 'started the Renaissance' yadda yadda yadda. What was little known about him was that he also ran some underground businesses including, ya know, whores and the like. Drugs too-- yup they had drugs back then. Babe let me tell you, they _always_ had drugs." She laughed to herself and put her hands behind her head lazily. "So anyway, I was one of his many kids, and I was one of the few that happened to get caught up in his 'life of sin'. I liked it well enough. I got to model for art- naked of course- and I got to weasel some drugs for myself. I had _fun_ ya better believe it." Appache grinned to herself now, eyes slightly closed and fogged over with memories from the 'good ol' days'. A few moments later she brought herself out of her dazed state and continued. "But then came along Savonarola. Christ, that stuck up prissy BASTARD!" she shouted suddenly, her fists coming up into the air, aimed at the invisible form of her hate. Her body trembled slightly and she opened her eyes into slits, staring at the table with cold hate. Orihime herself gave a small shudder. "Anyway, he ruined all the fun. He came in, started saying how my Pop was starting up the apocalypse just 'cause some people started liking the idea of photographical porn. He claimed that hell was coming for us and some other bullshit. Anyway, you heard of the Burning of the Vanities? Yeah, well, he burned more than just a few glittery objects. No one knows about it, 'cause no one was allowed to talk about it or nothin'. Anyway, thanks to my dumb Pop, he ended up buying into the shit just 'cause he got a little sick from all the drugs he took. He brought in old Savonarola and tried to get some clemency. Of course the guy didn't grant it, but he said he'd pray for him if he gave him one of his kids. So I somehow managed to get mixed up in that shit. And here I am now!" she spread out her arms as wide as her smile. "And I couldn't be happier! Stupid men and their religious shit. Ya ask me, everyone should just be able to act as they want. There wasn't any harm that came from the shit we pulled. But hey, the bastard got his comeuppance. He ended up getting burned at the stake too. I ate him for breakfast as soon as he became a lame ass spirit. Tasted like shit!" she laughed and leaned her chair back on its two hind legs. She grinned at Orihime viciously. "How's that fer uplifting?"

Orihime looked at Appache sadly, but as hard as she stared, she didn't find a smidgen of resentment in the smiling Arrancar's face. Such a horrible death! To be betrayed by her father, and then burned! Orihime fought the tears that came to her eyes and bit her lip.

"I'm sorry." She said quietly, and Appache looked at her blankly. She looked the teary eyes girl up and down, which was followed by the shrugging of her shoulders. She closed her eyes, and her chair creaked weakly from the weight still leaning dangerously back in her seat.

"Don't be. Becoming a hollow was the best sort of rehabilitation I could've gotten. Bein' with Halibel-sama's better than workin' under some dumb guy I can tell you that. The worst part about it is stupid Mira Rose!" she stuck her tongue out at the woman across from her at Mira Rose. Mira Rose looked up, startled, and waved her hand at her.

"Bitch." She muttered, and awaited her inevitable turn.

"Anyway, it's yer turn now whore." She leered, and Mira Rose grumbled.

"Whatever." She said, and looked at Orihime. "It's not anything special. But yeah, it ends up like them. It starts like theirs too. I was a whore for the sultan. You ever heard that story Arabian Nights?" she asked, and Orihime nodded.

"The story of the woman that managed to stay alive by telling the sultan, her new husband, a story every night to prevent him from strangling her." she responded.

"Very good." She said and leaned over the table. "Let's just say that the sultan had a few wives before her. It wasn't that he needed to be married really, he just wanted to replace his old wife. He did love her, and so he wanted to marry another woman in the hopes she'd make him forget all about his old fiancée. But thanks to that betrayal, the guy had-" she made a loop with her finger at her head. "gone crazy." She wrinkled her nose and clenched her fists. "I was wife number 2. My own two-faced brother gave me up for a few necklaces of gold and pearl. I managed to stay alive for a week. Then the bastard offed me." She slammed her fist on the table. "I think I can say that for all three of us, we hate men. We're the men-haters club!" Appache hooted and laughed raucously, Sun-sun sighed while rolling her eyes to the left with a smile tugging at her cheek, and Mira Rose grinned. "And I wouldn't be anywhere other than right here and right now. Thanks to Halibel-sama, I'm almost over my death." She looked to her leader with clear eyes, as did Sun-sun and Appache. They all gazed at their leader with an intense sort of esteem and exaltation.

Halibel had her arms folded across her chest as usual and looked at each of her fraccion members. She sighed sharply and closed her eyes, but if her jacket hadn't covered her face, it would've shown a small proud smile. Halibel had selected her group carefully, and it paid off well. Orihime stared at her with them, wondering if she would tell her story as well. Halibel looked up and stared at the chestnut-haired girl.

"Well, I suppose I'm no exception to the rule. Very well, here's my story." She unfolded her arms and put each hand on the edge of the table. With vivid green eyes, aged from an experience Orihime was about to learn, she stared at the naïve young woman and began her tale.

* * *

Author's Note: Just a tad longer than most chapters, and we'll hear Halibel's story in a chapter or two. :-) Um, originally I had wanted to make the stories kind of funny, but they ended up turning out pretty serious. O.o;

Oh well, hope you bought them. The story of Empress Wu is true, but the name of the wife is different and I made that for my own purposes. Lorenzo Medici is mostly true, except for the underground mafia/drug/sex thing. And no one was burned in the Burning of the Vanities, just pearls, paintings and books and whatnot. But Savonarola was burned. Actually his death is kinda funny; the first time they tried to burn him it rained, so they thought it was a sign, but they ended up torching the guy anyway. The Arabian Nights story as you know is true, except for the parts I made up...wait, that made sense. Um, he only did have one wife. Assuming the story is really true in the first place. I should know that shouldn't I?

Oh well, so here's this. Hope it was okay, and worth the fact neither Aizen nor Ichigo is in it. My bad... O.o;

And uh-oh guys, it's starting to happen again. Every six months or so I begin looking back at my writing...and hating it. It's a writer thing, I'm sure most of you know- it's all part of the process. Hopefully I'll get over it quick and get back to this, but...well, I just thought I should warn you. Hopefully by this time I'll have been accepted and refused by colleges so I'll either celebrate by writing or cram my depression into this story-respectively. Not to mention Kubo isn't giving me any help here—he pulls some crazy shit sometimes.

Ugh. Back to the drawing board. ;;;;


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen (OMG!)

"But what is the point?" Ichigo sighed at the third repetition of the question and moaned obnoxiously. For such a brilliant guy, Aizen just didn't get some things.

"The _point_ is that...it's...well, there is no point. That's the point. It's fun, that's it basically." He rested his head on the side of the table and looked up at his 'nemesis'. That now really being a relative term.

"So you risk your life and your car for pointless fun? Am I getting this right?" Aizen sat back in his seat, diplomatically raising his fingers to his chin, and looked at Ichigo with an arrogant disposition.

"Well, yes and no."

"That seems to be your answer for a lot of things." Aizen commented.

"Yeah, well not everything is just BLACK and WHITE, _Aizen_." Ichigo pointed out, and Aizen smirked a bit, understanding his reference. Ichigo frowned the largest frown his face could possibly make and stared at Aizen with rabid irritation while he pounded his fingers against the table; each beat amplified by the glass surface.

"Ah, to be young!" Aizen sighed and reminisced. Ichigo growled again and turned away, much like a child would when angry at a friend for not agreeing with them. As much as Ichigo hated to admit it, he didn't so much mind these little daily sessions with Aizen. Around him, Aizen didn't seem so terrible. Of course, he'd managed to brainwash the entire Soul Society, so Ichigo was keeping up his guard. Every time Aizen came too close Ichigo would jerk about and swat him away, not daring to hit him harshly for fear of provoking him too far. Strange though, but Aizen did seem to like to touch him a lot. It wasn't anything huge, but every now and then Ichigo would find Aizen's hand on his head, or he would gently hold his elbow, even a few times he would just sidle up to Ichigo lightly and walk closely to him. He would brush against Ichigo's side ever so lightly, and because of the fact it didn't disturb Ichigo, it disturbed Ichigo. Every time he felt Aizen standing behind him he shivered as he realized he didn't seem to mind that his enemy had complete power over him.

It wasn't in Ichigo's nature to let people walk over him, much less control him like a puppet. The fact that right now Aizen might be slowly playing Ichigo into the good honest puppet made Ichigo sick at best. At night he would lie in bed and sweat out his nervous state. Aizen had control, complete and utter control over the situation, and this wasn't okay. Despite what Ichigo's body told him, his mind knew that Aizen was only playing him. His body merely reacted to Aizen as he would to a friendly presence even though Aizen was anything but. He was toying with Ichigo, trying to give him that Whatever Syndrome that made victims sympathize with their captors. And whenever this thought came across Ichigo his body would jerk violently in opposition. Never would he ever let someone have control like that over him. He wasn't to be a part Aizen's little cult! He wasn't going to be swayed from his opinion! His opinion, Ichigo wasn't going to...agree...wait, what was this fight really over again?

Ichigo remembered that Aizen wanted to become God...but what did that entail? Why was it that the Soul Society feared him so much? Did they know what he was going to do? Was it something terrible? Or maybe they didn't know? Maybe they thought it must be something evil because of the power of the Hogyoku. Maybe they figured that whatever Aizen was up to must be no good if he had to betray the whole Soul Society to get it started. Not to mention he was making Arrancar!

Yes of course! That's it! Ichigo mentally slapped his forehead; Aizen was making these hollows, these spiritually dead creatures even stronger, and then setting them onto people. Of course...he'd created Grand Fisher. The same hollow that had killed his mother. Ichigo squinted his eyes, trying to take away the picture of his mother that filled his vision. He wiped his face clean of memories – he couldn't delve into any emotional state in front of his enemy – and shook his head out.

What was he doing thinking these thoughts now, right in front of the man himself? Aizen wasn't doing much at the moment, just watching Ichigo. It's all he ever did, Ichigo scoffed. He wrinkled his nose and blew out a puff of air from his nostrils, angry and agitated. Aizen's eyes stared at him, calmly assessing every movement he made, every hair out of place and every extra wrinkle on his forehead was taken notice of, Ichigo knew, and was scrutinized. Aizen was probably lining up his next course of action according to how Ichigo was reacting at this very moment.

That bothered Ichigo.

Aizen raised an eyebrow as Ichigo glared at him with the burning heat of an industrial steel maker. Aizen smiled to himself and rubbed his chin softly. Ichigo wasn't that bad of a kid, he had to reflect. In fact, he wasn't bad company either. Aizen learned of Ghost Riding and Illegal Immigrants and things he didn't even know people had thought of. Aizen wasn't customarily used to being surprised, but everything Ichigo did had some sort of spontaneity to it. Ichigo was the typical Type B personality to Aizen's anal Type A, and for some reason Aizen found it refreshing. Aizen stifled a laugh – something indeed Aizen did almost never, laugh that is – as he could hear Ichigo growling very slightly. He wondered just what he'd done to earn the young man's animosity so, but shrugged it off. He was willing to bet lots of money that Ichigo didn't hate him as much as he used to. He'd noticed the way it took a few moments before Ichigo realized that Aizen was next to him, and how he reacted only a bit too slow whenever Aizen touched him directly.

Of course, Aizen wasn't quite sure why he was so friendly with the boy in the first place, so maybe it was only that Aizen's moves were fairly impulsive in themselves. Aizen wondered why Ichigo's looks of annoyance or surprise amused him enough to actually go out of his way to encourage them. It was odd, to say the least.

Aizen adjusted his position as if doing so would make the situation more comfortable. Ichigo's expression didn't change, and for another minute or so Aizen continued to watch him. He liked the way Ichigo's abnormally colored hair contrasted with his hunter green shirt. Aizen wondered just how many people marveled at his hair. Countless, probably. What had Aizen even more in awe were the boy's eyes. They weren't any remarkable color, unlike his hair, but in them held so much expression it was a wonder they weren't bigger. Ichigo's eyes couldn't be described as 'brown', for they were so much more than that.

Ichigo's eyes held in them the essence of what it was to be alive and happy. Granted, Ichigo wasn't very content at the moment, but the young man was happy with his life. He enjoyed the company of his friends, and his family. He enjoyed the life of a young man, and he enjoyed the powers he had as a representative Shinigami. Ichigo, underneath his frowns and his secrets, was happy. His eyes showed it clearly: the light that reflected off of them was brighter than the original source, the color was deeper and his eyelids were constantly in motion. His lashes weren't long, but they held a sporty length that played off his older boyishness, and worked with his new-coming masculinity. The longer Aizen looked into his eyes, the more he could feel himself wanting to relax.

How was that? Aizen wondered. Just what was it about Kurosaki Ichigo that put him at ease? Of course, he would never say he was particularly threatened by the boy – even with his newly formed abilities – but to feel relaxed around someone he'd known for so short a period of time, for someone he had not even the _desire_ to be in favor towards...Just how was it that Ichigo made Aizen want to have him like him? This wasn't like Orihime, this was something else entirely. Orihime he needed at his beck and call. He needed her to be there for his every whim, to be cooperative at any given moment. Ichigo he could afford to have rampaging about the room; he didn't _need_ Kurosaki Ichigo.

"What the hell? Are we having a staring contest that I didn't know about?" Ichigo asked crossly.

Aizen snapped out of his thinking coma with grace and laughed. "As if you could win anything against me." He taunted.

"Oh yeah?" Ichigo brought himself up and straightened his back eagerly, taking Aizen's joking comment very seriously. "I think I would beat you at a couple things."

"Really? What would those be?" Aizen asked, half curious as to what he'd come up with and half amused at his easily offended response.

"Well..." Ichigo had to think a moment. He paused in his place, most resembling the pensive _David_ of Michelangelo Aizen noticed. He snapped his fingers and frowned, trying to get his brain to work. He looked at the overly cocky Aizen and his mouth moved back into a tight purse. "Not being evil for starters."

Aizen laughed.

Ichigo brought his shoulders into his body and growled to himself. "Only you would think that was funny." He said harshly, glaring at Aizen with a hate that had only now just risen. Aizen looked to his younger companion cautiously, taking in his serious mood, and debating on how to act.

"Well, there are many things I would call myself, but 'evil' was never one of them." Aizen said stalwartly, willing Ichigo to shrug it off and change the subject.

"How 'bout another one? Just add a 'D' in front of 'evil'. I think that's even better." Ichigo smiled angrily to himself and leaned back into his seat, holding himself awkwardly, then spreading out his arms in feigned confidence. "Who needs to be God when you can just pine forever?" he laughed. "That's what you are Aizen. Don't you get it? You're nothing more than Satan, wanting forever to take over heaven but condemned to his hellhole for all eternity." Ichigo refused to open his eyes even as he felt Aizen throw the table across the room and slam Ichigo's body into the wall. Ichigo coughed lightly, but swallowed the minimal amount of blood that came into his mouth. He looked away as he felt Aizen's face press very close to his. Aizen's nose grazed Ichigo's cheek and the young man shivered, not with fear, but with repressed emotional anger.

"Are you making yourself to be Christ then? How bold of you." Aizen whispered. Ichigo's eyes opened widely in protest and he yelled an inaudible word, following in his resentment and without thinking he lashed out and struck Aizen in the chest.

Aizen didn't laugh.

Many often wondered how Aizen had been able to achieve the feat of getting all of the hollows in Hueco Mundo to follow his lead. In fact, he'd even been able to get the more arrogant Arrancar to follow his lead, namely Grimmjow Jaggerjaques. How? Just how did this man get all of Hueco Mundo to carry out his orders, even though it was their lives that were risked and it would all come to Aizen's gain? Easy; he made them do it through fear, through force. The fear tactic had worked wonders for Aizen – it had even worked against another Shinigami captain, one that was now currently under Aizen's army. By beating the living stuffing out of every Arrancar, or at least threatening to, Aizen had every demon in that world wrapped around his finger.

Kurosaki Ichigo was to be no exception to this rule.

Aizen wrapped his hand around Ichigo's neck without feeling a thing; there was no pang of regret or feeling in any nerve of his body. He tightened his grasp and felt Ichigo slowly deflate beneath him as he pushed his body harder into the younger man's frame. Ichigo rasped for breath but Aizen gave him no room. In Aizen's experience, it was best to deliver the message in one efficient punch. He brought his other hand down and pressed his palm to Ichigo's stomach. He lightly lifted up the cloth and gently laid his hand on Ichigo's abdomen. All in a millisecond, Aizen clenched his hand and grabbed onto Ichigo's stomach, digging his nails into the skin while inserting a blast of powerful reiatsu.

"Did no one teach you respect?" He whispered softly, lips directly in the skin of his ear. Aizen could feel Ichigo trembling from anger beneath him, but he still felt nothing. Aizen felt nothing. He shoved Ichigo away from him and headed towards the door, but stopped himself halfway. He turned back around and held Ichigo again, this time just his arm. Ichigo tried to back away from his grasp, but Aizen was just stronger. Some things are incomparable; Ichigo was the frozen yogurt to Aizen's ice cream. "By the way Ichigo," Aizen stopped and once again looked into his eyes. As always, they were full of animation, despite his physical state. "I'll tell Orihime you said hello." Aizen smiled amiably before exiting the door, coat billowing behind him, as if Aizen had control of every action of it as well. Ichigo refused to rub his neck or tend to his stomach wound. He wouldn't acknowledge that Aizen had done anything to him.

Aizen had done his job. Now every time Ichigo felt Aizen sidle up to him, touch his elbow, or ruffle his hair, he would remember. He would remember the way Aizen really should be treating him, and he would follow him. Ichigo's reaction time would be perfectly in sync, and Aizen knew that from now on he could count on Ichigo's flinches to be much more frequent, and much more violent. Aizen walked down the lonely halls of Las Noches with his usual all-knowing smile on his face and filling the halls with his unrivaled power. No, Ichigo wouldn't look at Aizen anymore without at least a small bit of disdain.

Aizen didn't regret any of this, no, he felt nothing. Strange though, Aizen usually took a small bit of pleasure on these moments. But Aizen shook this off; naturally, it was only because Ichigo was so much weaker than he was. Aizen would never take pleasure in squashing an ant.

Aizen walked down the hall at his leisurely pace as Ichigo unsteadily hobbled to the bathroom – that blast of reiatsu left no muscle untouched – and leaned against the sink. He stared into his own eyes, and lo and behold they still held a touch of fire in them. It was almost gone, nearly extinguished by the sheer force Aizen was able to manipulate around him, but Ichigo was still Ichigo, and as long as someone needed his help, he was up and ready for duty. Orihime needed his help, and he wasn't going to fail her. With a last burst of psyched up energy, Ichigo pounded his fist into the mirror, shattering the glass and also a few bones.

He almost rolled his eyes as he – _mentally_ of course – slapped himself for once again hurting himself recklessly. His hip steadied him against the counter as he brought his hand to his mouth and sucked on the escaping blood. He cringed as the slight taste of metal stabbed at his tongue, and pain began throbbing in his broken bones. _Dammit heal!_ He willed his bones silently. Ichigo felt his vision slur and a familiar bright light came into his vision. He quickly slammed both of his hands on the sink, preventing himself from nearly falling. Just as quickly he brought his right hand up again, his newly broken one, and brought it back to his mouth. He shouldn't have reacted so with such a new and severe injury--!

But...why didn't it hurt anymore? Ichigo looked to his hand incredulously, and saw that it had healed. He stretched out his hand, and though a few calcium spots were detected by his slightly limited movements, his hand was virtually the same.

Once again Ichigo looked at his reflection in the mirror. Brighter and brighter, his eyes were gaining flame faster than a forest fire.

* * *

Author's Note: Yeah, I gave them another chapter, even though I really don't have the time to be doing that. Whatever. And as you can see, I did bring back Ichigo's new ability, and that will be focused on a little more in the next chapter.

And DAMN, I think I'm turning Aizen OOC a little too fast. I mean it to be he's asking Ichigo these things (in the beginning) because he's curious on how Ichigo, or anyway a young man involved, feels about those subjects. Unfortunately he just looks naïve. I haven't paid as much attention to Ichigo as I should, so if he's also becoming too OOC, enough to notice anyway, let me know.

But OMG! Did anyone read chapter 314!! OMGOMGOMG!! WTF??

Ahem, anywho, I need to gather my bearings and refocus on what I want to do with this story, where I need to go next, yadda yadda. Not to mention I have to worry about Fanime and everything. I'm going as Grimmjow, and with luck, we'll be able (my friends and I that is) to do the dancing skit we planned. If we pull it off it'll be great, but I have to work a lot, so we may not finish it in time, much less get the dance moves in sync. :-( And of course all this is piled on with a bunch of other senior stuff. Juniors out there, SO not kidding: STUDY FOR THOSE SATs!! Trust me, they MATTER. I kind of hate life right now, but whatever. Now I'll just have to immerse myself in the joy of quasi-realism and fanfiction. Oh joy.

I think I'm finally going to bring back Chad and Uryu, because I need to- I know, but it must be done. And I really want to put Gin in there, just because he's my grown up son and I heart him. And soon, but not next chapter, I'll put Zaraki back in there. And I'll need to put up some more Orihime. So yeah, that's about it. :-)

And P.S.: The Killing Fields. Watch it and educate yourselves. Such a good movie.

So Have a good day all, and STUDY FOR THOSE SATs! (And I mean, get over 1900. Yeah, really.)


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

Gin didn't really know why everyone thought of him as 'The Prankster'. His suspicions were on his shifty eyes and his ever present smile, but really, doesn't anyone know the phrase, "Don't judge a book by its cover"? Honestly, some people were only too indulged in making gossip. However, if it was a prankster they wanted, it was a prankster they'd get, and so Ichimaru Gin reveled in toying with the various Arrancar of Hueco Mundo.

It's not as if there was anything else to do.

Gin stood in front of the usual doorway, the one which held the 11 chairs around the long cold white table, while shifting his weight from his left leg to his right. Gin hated leaning his weight on one particular foot, but was in the habit of doing so when he was thinking. Yes, thinking. Our dear beloved joker was thinking. He sighed as he mentally saw the 11 sets of china sitting in front of each chair, as he mentally heard the squeaking of the metal swivel chairs when the Espada made themselves comfortable, and he cringed at the thought of hearing the slurping noise of all 11 monsters sipping their hot tea.

Gin hated the sound of slurping.

He also hated the muffled suppressed anger that was felt there. All of them had an enemy in the room, and they all carefully watched each others' actions to the point of noticing unshaped eyebrows until Gin could slice the tension with his zanpakutou. He hated the growling of Grimmjow, the stoicism of Ulquiorra. He hated the scarred old man and his ridiculously rough skin, and he hated Zomari and his stupid spiked head. He hated Nnoitra's spoon for a hat, he hated Halibel's cone-cover that made her look even more the dog she was, he hated Aeroniero for reminding him of the past, he hated Stark for his lackadaisical ways, he hated Szayel's stupid pink hair, he hated Tousen for being the figurative and literal blind fool and he hated Yammy for just being Yammy.

Gin hated a lot of things, but he mostly hated Aizen. He hated Aizen's confidence. He hated how Aizen knew everything, was aware of everything he did, everything he said, everything anyone ever said or thought or did, and he hated how Aizen was able to control those things. He wanted Aizen's brain, but whether he wanted it for himself or to smash it, to crush it between his own hands and throw it at someone – preferably Yammy – was something he hadn't quite figured out yet. Gin hated the way he smiled, with all of the power beneath him, as if he could crush the world with the snap of his fingers.

But Gin never showed this. Above the simmering hate was a façade that almost no one could decipher. Gin smiled and chuckled and laughed. He shut his eyes to the world and hoped they would do the same to him, hoped that they would leave him alone. On top of the blazing anger, layered over his consumed abhorrence, was a face that even Aizen admired.

And that was why Gin had been chosen.

* * *

Karin rolled her eyes as Yuzu looked at the empty seat sullenly. Their father continued to blather on about something or other while his two daughters ignored him successfully and maintained their gloomy moods.

Yuzu was always so oversensitive, Karin thought. Ichigo was often gone, why should this time be any exception? No matter what, for Yuzu, her feelings never weakened. Every punch hurt as much as the last and she just never seemed to toughen up. She was an emotional hemophiliac, Karin decided. As she looked on at her sister, she could see watery eyes and a trembling lower lip begin to surface. Yuzu shook her head and looked down at her food, trying to hide her betraying sentiments. Karin let out a grumbling sigh and played with her own food. Yuzu was an amazing cook by now, nearly a chef, but Karin just wasn't hungry tonight.

She hadn't been hungry for the past few nights actually. It had been four days since Ichigo's disappearance, and since their house was blown apart by the blue-haired moron. Currently, they were living inside the clinic itself, the small room that was usually reserved for patients. The kitchen had been only half blown apart, so Yuzu had managed to make do with it and create their meals – though the meals were made outside, as the walls had been blown off. Neighbors watched curiously as they now saw in plain sight the Kurosaki family's interactions and were often taken note of. As were the ingredients to Yuzu's famous takoyaki.

Yuzu fumbled with her chopsticks and blinked several times. Karin frowned as she saw the tablecloth's white color darken beneath Yuzu; darken with the addition of salty tears. Karin loved her sister, but she was older now, and she had toughened like a raisin in the sun. She was emotionally hardened to any family troubles that occurred. She had been concerned at first, when she first found out about her brother's spiritual shenanigans, but now it was nothing more than yesterday's news. Her brother could take care of himself.

Yuzu sniffled quietly and bit her lip. Karin held back another annoyed sigh as she reminded herself that it was Yuzu that she needed to take care of now. Her brother was on his own, and Karin could handle herself, it was only Yuzu that needed comfort.

Karin was fine. Karin didn't need something as trifle as human comfort.

She was fine.

* * *

"Matsumoto!" Toushiro shouted, grimacing as the Hollow now made its way over to him and brought down a heavy blow of power on his zanpakutou. Access to their powers still hadn't come, and Rangiku had been struck down temporarily by the high ranked Hollow that found them. Toushiro shoved it aside for a brief moment and took the minute to kick his gigai out of the way. Damn thing! He hadn't even had time to put in a mod soul. The hollow screeched a hideous sound that made Toushiro cringe and came at the young looking boy with a newfound vigor.

"Permission Granted." Came the monotonous voice and Toushiro sighed his relief. About time.

Recovered from its momentary clumsiness the hollow came back in a circle, whipping out its talons to slice off the young captain's head.

"Hyourinmaru!!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs, and threw out his attack upon the unsuspecting monster. Within seconds the hollow was completely covered in ice, and without a moment's hesitation Toushiro brought his sword down and through the hollow's mask, disintegrating the beast to become a more pure form. He prayed for a moment that the lost soul would find peace before rushing quickly to where his compatriot was lying. "Matsumoto! Are you alright?" he asked in a restrained voice. As a leader, he wasn't allowed to lose his cool, especially when someone was injured. Even if it was someone he cared for like a sister.

"Sorry sir. It's no trouble." She coughed out, struggling to get up. Toushiro took her arm and put it around his shoulder. She smiled as she allowed him to help her, and Toushiro could see the blood that came from her cough at the corner of her mouth. Her forehead was covered with sweat and strained effort, and Toushiro grumbled to himself new and imaginative curses when he noticed just how deep the wound on her side was. An entire layer of skin had been broken until he could visibly see two broken ribs. The cut was fairly even, therefore it wouldn't be too much trouble getting it fixed, but she was in her gigai, so she needed different treatment than the kind the Soul Society had to offer.

"Shit." He muttered to himself. Rangiku sighed dramatically and swallowed, trying to hide the pain she felt in doing both.

"No worries Captain. Just a little aspirin and I'll be fine."

"Shut up. I'll need to take you to the hospital."

"Nah, too conspicuous. How about we just steal the drugs and do it ourselves? I hate doctors." Toushiro sighed as he vaguely wondered if she was serious or not. It was always hard to tell.

"Dammit." He grumbled, shifting her weight so that he was taking most of it. Despite her tough talk, she was injured to the point of passing out. Which made it clear that she needed a doctor – and fast. "Can you make it a little farther?" he asked.

"Does it look like I'm wearing heels? I can make it sir." She smiled again, but clenched onto his shirt a little tighter. Toushiro hugged his vice-captain a little closer and continued his way as fast as possible to the nearest clinic, which of course happened to belong to the infamous Kurosaki family.

* * *

Ichigo trembled slightly from his excitement. He had the power to _heal_. He thought he'd been imagining it, that it had been some fluke or another. But no, this was the real deal, he had Orihime's power! How did this happen? Was it simply a matter of producing a power when he needed it? Was it somehow reflected from the powers Orihime had? He vaguely remembered Urahara saying that his powers acted as a sort of catalyst for all his friends...maybe this was happening as the end to a knee-jerk reaction? What comes up must come down, so was it that his body – or soul? – was taking its cues from his friends' powers?

It made sense, almost. Ichigo tried to convince himself. Since Orihime was the only one around, maybe that was the reason for the healing ability. Well, not healing ability...

The ability to manipulate time.

He had the ability to manipulate time. So then, if he had Orihime's power...Aizen didn't need her! All he needed was Ichigo for his plan! Orihime could be set free! Ichigo jumped in excitement at this new revelation and ran back into his main room. He slammed his body against the door and pounded his fists on it repeatedly.

"Aizen!" he called out breathlessly. "Aizen come back! Come back, it's important! Aizen!" Ichigo wouldn't stop banging on the wall until he came back. He couldn't have gotten far, if he made enough noise he was bound to hear.

Ichigo continued to throw his fists against the door until they hurt, and he wondered if again he'd broken something. But Ichigo's actions weren't for not. Completely.

"Aizen! Ai--!" abruptly the door was opened and Ichigo was shoved back as someone hastily entered the room. He was thrown back all the way to fall onto his bed, before he saw it wasn't the object of demand that had entered the room, but his lackey.

He'd gained the attention of Ulquiorra Schiffer.

"What is the meaning of this?" he asked coldly, looking down on Ichigo with his same stoic expression. The same expression that told Ichigo that Ulquiorra found more worth in a dead fly. Ichigo jumped off the bed instinctively and tensed his muscles. If Ulquiorra wanted a fight, Ichigo would be ready.

"I wasn't calling you."

"I'm aware of that."

Ichigo swallowed and glared at his former opponent. "I need to talk to Aizen."

"I'm afraid that's impossible. Aizen-_sama_ is currently indisposed." And it was so. Aizen at this very moment in time was being harassed by the one and only Tousen, who really wanted to work out the Justice System of the new world they would create in heaven. As many times as Aizen would remind Tousen that "_I_ am the new Justice System" every time Tousen would go on in his elaborate construction of a dark room filled with no more than ten people that would discuss the judicial matters at hand. Justice was blind, he reminded Aizen.

"Well I _need_ to talk to him. It's important!" Ichigo clenched his fists impatiently and ground his teeth.

"You'll have to wait." Ulquiorra said, but didn't move. It seemed he was silently asking Ichigo, 'What's the glitch?' Unfortunately Ichigo didn't quite take this cue. He paced back and forth, taking his hands in and out of his pockets and huffing and puffing along the way. Ulquiorra would have sighed if it weren't below him. He watched Ichigo like a caged tiger outside a restaurant; so close to what he wanted but not close enough. Ichigo fiddled with his back pocket, the pocket that had once held his Shinigami representative badge, but that was long gone by now. Aizen had probably given it to Yammy to eat as a mid-morning snack.

"It's about Orihime." Ichigo spat out at last. Although Ulquiorra didn't move a millimeter, it was obvious he was interested. Or at least, it would be obvious if you were Ulquiorra. He silently goaded on the young man, but Ichigo again was oblivious. "Get Aizen." He demanded.

"I'm afraid you'll have to wait another time for Aizen-_sama_." Ichigo made an indignant noise at being reminded for the second time to abide by the honorific. As if he'd give respect to his enemy.

"How long?" he asked shortly.

"Could be days." Ulquiorra responded coolly. He looked at Ichigo from the corner of his eye and saw that the young man had just about had enough. He let out a dissatisfied screech and kicked the wall. "I don't think that will help." Ulquiorra said, and Ichigo sneered at him. "If you'd like I could relay a message to Aizen-sama. If it's important, maybe he'll drop by later. Though there are no promises in that."

Ichigo decided to bite. "Fine. Tell him to let Orihime go. I have what he needs." Ulquiorra was silent for a moment. He wasn't quite sure what this implied, but he couldn't very well ask for more information, he couldn't appear interested. Someone would find out. In a world where deceitful creatures ruled, someone always found out.

"Is that all?" Ulquiorra asked, making sure to sound apathetic.

"Yeah Himmler, that'll get him over here." Ichigo simpered. Ulquiorra brushed off the Nazi reference, turned around and opened the door, leaving as fast as he entered. Ichigo smiled to himself and walked with a little jump in his step. He'd get her out of here! He'd get Orihime out! All without lifting a finger. Who knew?

Ulquiorra stood outside the door for a moment, listening to the self-congratulations Ichigo was bestowing upon himself for his latest heroic work. Ulquiorra rubbed his middle finger against his index, a habit he'd inherited from all the annoyances caused by his fellow Arrancar brothers and sisters. What did he mean? 'I have what he needs'...what was that? If Ichigo had the power to manipulate time, then they certainly wouldn't need the young woman that was currently locked up for that sole purpose. Aizen-sama would have the one and only enemy he really needed locked up, and then force him to help along with his plan. Ulquiorra closed his eyes and began walking down the hall. No, he was being brash. Aizen-sama wouldn't let her leave – she was too cooperative. The rapscallion would certainly cause more trouble, and probably refuse to help, even if his friends were in danger. Ulquiorra walked down the hall briskly, but instead of heading to the destination of where his master currently resided, he headed in the direction of the woman.

Aizen-sama didn't need to hear of this farce. Ulquiorra made up his mind, why bother him? Aizen-sama had better things to do than to listen to that trash's wild epiphanies and then explain to him why they wouldn't work. No, it would be better to leave his master alone. And so Ulquiorra continued on his way, in more of a hurry than usual, to get back to his prisoner.

* * *

Author's Note: Yeah, so since the plot of Bleach is definitely taking a turn for the different, I'm on my own here. Good luck me.

So Ulquiorra; as you see here, I'm giving him a little personal feelings towards _his_ prisoner (don't know if you caught that). So now it's getting dramatic. Yeah! All those weeks of watching 'Days of our Lives' for research finally pays off!

Sorry for the timing in all this. It's weird I know, and it's going to get weirder, or more confusing I should say. Anyway, I might change that last part with Ulquiorra, he seems a little off to me. And since this is my last completed chapter, and I have AP tests, Fanime, Canada and Mexico coming up...

Updates will be slow. I'm sorry. And then I have possibly Germany after that. Or college. Either way, things are going to get stressful. So as long as you guys pester me (just no death threats please) I'll try to keep up with the story. I'm a bit attached to it myself.

And for 'ceres': You should get an account! I always want to respond to your reviews, but always forget to in the next chapter. But anyway thanks for reviewing, and I'm glad you like the story. And I like your reviews. So yeah.

Um, I need to take a shower now. Ciao!


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

"What is this?" Ulquiorra asked, stoic as ever. If there was one thing he expected from Halibel, it certainly wasn't this. The women in the room froze. They slowly turned to face the Fourth Espada, his blank face as intimidating as ever.

Halibel was the only one unsurprised. She felt his reiatsu a mile away. "Hmm. Awkward." She voiced, then stood up abruptly. "Girls, come." Orihime opened her mouth, and Halibel looked down at her. Orihime mouthed something to Halibel, and the words accompanied by the features taking over the young girl's face were enough to make Halibel sigh. She nodded to the young girl and walked to the door, quickly followed by three anxious women. They left, walking a bit faster than one should in front of a predator.

Ulquiorra took notice of the cards that were splayed out on the table, hastily left behind at the surprise of his appearance. The varied chairs were taken from different places from around the room, and ended up comprising of a makeshift card table.

Strange as that was, it didn't hold his interest for long. What really held his interest were Orihime's cloudy eyes. She looked down at her cards with sightless eyes, completely blind to what was around her. Ulquiorra moved forward, hakama shifting noisily as he walked to stand behind her, and still there was no indication she knew he was there.

He wanted to speak, but that may imply he was concerned. He simply towered over Orihime as she delved deeply into her own thought, deeply concerned with the happenings of the woman she'd once feared, and yes, almost reviled.

She never knew, she never even thought, could imagine...

She'd never even thought. How else? How else could someone be so attached to his will? How else?

Making no move to jolt her out of her thought coma, Ulquiorra continued to stand over her, watching her with a slightly less stoic expression as one would imagine.

* * *

Halibel's story was this:

She'd been young. They all are, for things to go so wrong. If she'd been mature, she'd have known better. But she hadn't, and so she now had to live with the consequences of fate and stupidity.

She'd grown up in the normal way. The normal way for an abused child. Her parents had died horrifically and she'd been passed from man to man after that. Even young she'd been beautiful, and since the dawn of time men have liked sex. She'd learned to harden her feelings after a time – it was the only thing she could do. It was either deal, or die. She chose to live.

Strangely she was the youngest of her group. She'd grown up in New York in the nineteenth century, and was brought up in a place now known as the Bronx. The Bronx was now a mild place compared to what it had been. In a time of racism, sexism, and every kind of discrimination a place could take, and adding the apathy of the people to their own, Halibel had done remarkably well.

Her parents emigrated from France with high hopes and naïve thoughts. She'd been just a tot herself when her father was killed in an act of murder – a drunken bunch of 'True Americans' started out playfully making fun of his accent, then ended up paving the road with his blood. Her mother died in a fire, and little Halibel, at the ripe age of 7, was thrown into the streets. She learned quickly from the other children that it was a matter of dog eat dog. To each their own. She'd pick-pocketed, and being a fast learner, she got along fairly well on her own. It was when she was 11 and started experiencing the wonders of puberty at an early age that men took notice. She'd hide her face, but it made no difference. They saw, they wanted, they took.

She'd been terrified at first, and in those first few years she'd barely spoken a word to anyone. Man after man took her, and she'd learned from the ladies of the night just how to work it to her advantage. She'd grown into a wonderful persuader, and even had a little extra cash to burn. She'd joined a night organization that really knew how to work her natural gifts to their advantage. She'd been the star of the underground world, and had even learned to enjoy it to the extent that it paid well.

At least she wasn't on the streets, she told herself.

It was one night that changed her life. She'd peeked out into the audience, getting a feel of the vibes they sent out – did they want a fun time, hardcore 'persuasion', or perhaps intrigue? – when she saw a man in the middle row. Not the front or the back, like most stories would have it, but in the middle, a little to the left. He was beautiful, she noticed. He didn't smile but his eyes did, a smile Halibel thought not to exist. It wasn't a smile of upcoming suspension, of lust, or of fake laughter. It was a smile from the heart, a smile that told her he was here not for something, but that he'd already gotten something.

Her performance was slightly off, not being able to coax as many gentlemen as usual to her insatiable charms, but she didn't care. That night she took all of her belongings and set out to find the man in the audience. Strangely enough, she'd found him quite easily. She'd followed him out the back door, and once they were far enough away, she heard him whistle.

"What's a thing like you doing out so late?" he called. She'd been stealthy - and she knew stealthy – so she was a little surprised he'd noticed her. She remained quiet. "No comment?" he asked, laughing. She walked up to him, closing the gap cautiously, eager to come closer, but hesitant all the same. Standing there, face to face with something she longed to belong to, to be a part of, she realized that in these few actions she'd thrown away everything she'd learned from what life had taught her.

And she didn't care.

"Come." He said.

And she did.

* * *

Strange as it was, Aizen didn't really mind Tousen's music selection. Primarily it was Stevie Wonder that Tousen liked so much, and believe it or not, Aizen actually liked the stuff. Sure it was cheesy sometimes, but the guy really knew how to work a beat, and the lyrics were something special. Every word was deliberate and true, and that was something Aizen didn't get much of. That honesty, that sense of knowledge and yet...

The man just really knew how to write music.

It happened for everything; one person that stands out from the rest. They bring something new to the plate, something special that made everyone appreciate them, or hate them.

Aizen knew what that was like. And yet, here was this man, Stevie Wonder, who had this extraordinary gift of telling the obvious, exposing the truth to a beat, while Aizen was stuck having enormous power that could do so many wonderful things, but no one appreciated.

They feared him, they hated him, just because in everyone's own sick twisted way they were jealous. They were jealous of the power Aizen had at his disposal. They were jealous of his superiority, they were jealous of his opportunities, his life, his future.

Aizen had never bothered with it. He figured it was easier to leave it alone. He may as well just build up on his talents secretly, thereby avoiding it all and staying in peace. The time would come for the truth, but for the time, he had to wait.

And so he waited. He waited for centuries, coming across both luck and hardship. There were times he wanted to sabotage it all. He had wanted to scream and shout and laugh at them all to their faces. Why not show them just how far below him they all were? But he couldn't, he had to wait.

No one had been there to pick up the slack, all the plans were his own. Even Gin wasn't much of a help sometimes. Tousen was fairly useless, so as long as he kept quiet and helped along like a good disciple Aizen was content. He'd worked for it all, there was no mistake about it. It had taken – quite literally – years to plot. The sweat, the toil, the discrepancies, the time, the worries, frustration, antipathy, indifference...

It had taken Aizen more than a few prayers to get him to where he was now.

And then taking in the factor of Kurosaki Ichigo. The one thing he never accounted for, or at least, never expected. Once realized, the existence of Kurosaki Ichigo was put to good use. He'd done everything as Aizen had predicted and thought out, and for all Aizen's cockiness, he knew it had to be more than his own skill at hand. There was something else going on that Aizen wasn't quite involved in. Whether it was fate, karma, to something else entirely, Aizen knew it wasn't a fluke.

Kurosaki Ichigo had been planted.

But by who? By what? Was it for his own good fortune or would it turn out sour in the end? No matter, he told himself, even if it is for the worst he'd make the best of it. He was Aizen Sousuke after all. He'd turn Ichigo into a minion somehow, willingly or otherwise...no. Ichigo needed to come willingly. The only reason Aizen's plan had worked so well in Soul Society was because of the young chap's determination. He needed Ichigo with him, not begrudgingly against him, just waiting to backstab him one day.

_You and I,_ Aizen thought, _we could conquer the world together._ Aizen leaned back in his seat and let the music take hold. He smiled to himself, almost dreamily, as he settled his muscles to mold perfectly into his chair and felt the bass rumble through his bones. _You and I_.

* * *

If the family hadn't been hungry before, they definitely weren't now. After the dramatic, yet appropriate, bursting of the door their sights immediately settled on the lovely blonde woman whose side was nearly gone. Yuzu covered her mouth and looked away hurriedly, clutching the tablecloth and then moving to get her father's equipment ready. Isshin stood up quickly and rushed to the aid of the young boy, grabbing hold of his companion and rushing her to the nearest bed. She was unconscious and bleeding profusely. After a few quick questions, answered by the young lad efficiently and professionally, Isshin shooed the youngsters out of the room to tend to his newest patient undisturbed.

Karin had noticed from the start that this young boy was the very same she'd suspected of knowing the whereabouts of her brother. She eyed him obviously as Yuzu calmed herself down in the corner of the remaining wall, breathing deeply and clinging to the remains harshly.

Toushiro ignored Karin effectively. She stared straight ahead at the door, and when that got old, he began pacing to and fro. Rangiku would be fine – he knew that – but in order to keep from getting into an obvious argument with Ichigo's kid sister, it would be best to act as concerned as possible, and thereby avoid any conversation.

Rangiku would be fine, he just needed to ignore the little brat. That all he needed to concentrate on.

She would be fine.

* * *

"And this will do what?"

"Deplete your spirit energy."

"And we want this why?"

"To make for absolute sure Aizen won't notice you."

Uryu sighed and slapped his forehead lightly with his hand. Chad stood about awkwardly, shifting his weight to his left foot.

"And what is this?" Chad asked in his deep resonating voice.

"That will help you gain it back without turning you into a hollow." Urahara said happily. In one hand held a small round object, in his other, he held a frighteningly ominous object which looked most like a twisted dagger.

And it appeared to both Uryu and Chad that Urahara was planning on using the dagger first.

"Now, you say 'deplete'...what do you mean exactly? You mean just lower it yes?" Uryu asked, hint of annoyance and the strain of patience detectable.

"Of course not." Urahara smiled. Uryu frowned. "This will completely take away your spirit energy." He made a circle with the dagger and spun it around, making the sunlight reflect off of it and into his eyes in a most disturbing manner. "It'll be quite painful."

"Well that sucks!" Keigo interjected suddenly. For a moment all eyes were on him, and realizing this, he immediately shut up. No one else needed to be hurt—least of all him.

"Indeed." Replied Urahara with a smile. "But very necessary."

"You're all losers!" Jinta chimed in with his boyishly grading voice from behind the tall man with glasses. "Take it like men!"

"Who you calling a man?" Tatsuki scolded. Jinta growled at her, and just as she was about to growl back, Yoruichi jumped onto her shoulder and clawed her hair.

"It's not worth it." she drawled as Tatsuki grumbled.

"Alright class! Shall we go over the instructions?" Urahara smiled joyfully as he hid behind his fan.

"Yeah sure." Chad rumbled.

"Okay! So first you're going to get this—" Urahara held up the twisted dagger, "Shoved into your soul. Then, you'll go to Hueco Mundo the usual way, via gargantua. Once you're there, Tatsuki—" he pointed to the grumpy teenage girl, "Will help you out with this process of regaining your spiritual energy!" he held up a small sphere, and Tatsuki shuddered at the thought of having to go through the horrible experience again. Does the rat fear the door more once it's been warned of the shocking consequences. Hell yes, in Tatsuki's mind.

"Now, you'll have to be careful once you're inside." Yoruichi forewarned. "You'll have literally no spiritual energy, so you're basically sitting ducks for any hollows worth mentioning."

"So what is it you suggest?" Uryu asked impatiently, forehead already wrinkled in agitation.

Yoruichi nudged Tatsuki with her tail, motioning for her to take the question. Tatsuki sighed, but consented. "Start with the small ones. Work your way up, and rest once it's over."

"We won't have time to rest." Chad interjected. Tatsuki shook her head.

"Then make time." She stated, and Chad sighed. He'd get there when he got there.

"What happens if we run into a large hollow?" Uryu asked, making sure he got all his points down.

"Run like hell!" Urahara stated with a smile. With a snap of his fan, he put it away and into his coat, then walking towards them with a smile that would threaten a bouncer to tears, he approached them with the dagger. "Now, who's first?"

* * *

Author's Note: UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGH! Okay, I finished it. Now onto the next chapter, we'll see...um...good question. I guess you'll just be surprised then won't you? Lol. Good stuff.

Right now I'm absolutely obsessed with Majin Tantei Nougami Neuro, so I'm having a hard time focusing on Bleach. Not to mention being a senior in high school is harder work than I anticipated. But I finished my AP test! You have no idea how happy I am!! So I just have 5 major projects, 4 finals, 3 more job shifts, 2 very important phone calls to make and a partridge in a pear tree telling me to 'Hurry up and make a plan for next year!' Yes the partridge is a metaphor for my mother.

Anyway, chapters are going to be very slow. Very, very slow. So I'm sorry. Very, very sorry.

Ugh! It's so hot I can't think! I wore SHORTS to school! (Of course I wore leggings under them but still...)

It's really a shame that no one writes fanfiction for Neuro. I would, but I'm not quite in the mindset for it. besides, I need this one done first.

Aha, but about the actual story here...: we'll hear Halibel's story in pieces. And yes, Aizen like Stevie Wonder. I like Stevie Wonder. Everyone likes Stevie Wonder. 'Superstition' baby.

I wish I could draw... T.T


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two (WTF

Chapter Twenty-Two (WTF?!)

Ichigo could be cliché. He could say he was 'sweating bullets' or had 'steam coming from his ears'. He could be metaphorical too—his anger was as the rapid tide is to an unsuspecting poor critter swept up by it to be drowned. He could even fancy himself a poet and write a little limerick, "I was so very mad, I did something quite bad, I took off Aizen's head, but no consequence I dread."

Granted it wasn't his best work, so Ichigo preferred to be thuggish about the whole thing and just go with brutality as a mode of anger.

It had been three days. _Three whole days_, no scratch that, _three whole FUCKing days_ since the bastard had showed his face. Not only was Ichigo bored, but he was already beginning to rip his hair out from the need to save his friend—NOW.

So in his anger he wrecked things. They weren't his anyway, he thought to himself (or would have if he'd been a bit calmer). No, they were none of his concern. And so he tore and smashed, ripped and demolished any offensive object in sight, and at one point even tried to tear the wall to shreds. He'd never stop until the object at his hand was decimated. Even if it meant hours of grinding his teeth and holding his taut eyebrows in place, he would continue to the satisfaction of his anger and destroy every piece of every bit of every thing in sight.

Luckily, Aizen did finally walk in when Ichigo was in the process of ripping his bathroom to pieces.

"Miss me?" Aizen asked sweetly, charming smile almost melting Ichigo's face off completely with the wrath it evoked. In fact, he was so angry he couldn't speak. Ichigo merely dragged his fingernails over his face and glared at Aizen from beneath his bloody fingers. "Careful Ichigo," Aizen warned. "You only have skin like that once."

"Youuuuuuuuuuuuuuu--" Ichigo quivered in anger and gave Aizen his most horrid face: bloodshot eyes that were bulging quite fiercely, as if his eyelids were holding his eyes back from fighting a fight they could not win.

"Please Ichigo-kun, we've known each other for a bit of time now. Call me Aizen-sama." He smiled amiably. Ichigo could hear his heart pounding in his chest from the hard work he'd done to obliterate all of the material objects within reach, and he heard it speed up as Aizen made himself comfortable on the black chair at the table.

"Come sit down." Aizen patted the seat next to him, but the young, sleep-deprived, paleolithic-looking man didn't register any of it.

"How can...you...say...?" Ichigo tried to form words, but the mixture of his primal instinct to destroy and his primal instinct to survive didn't make to provide any interesting thoughts he might relay to the older man. Or sentences, for that matter.

Aizen sighed. He would've asked what was wrong with Ichigo, but he knew better. If he did ask what was bothering him, Ichigo would do one of two things: one, he would attack Aizen, and Aizen would hate to kill the boy after all the progress he'd made thus far. Two, he would stroke. So Aizen sat back and watched the boy stutter and pause as he made, to his best efforts, something of a coherent sentence.

"Why...do...say...?" It was like watching George of the Jungle have his first English lesson. Or perhaps Tarzan. Aizen wasn't really associated with most American pop culture, as lazy as it was. What could he say? He just had more important things to do than bother learning the ways of a country that would most likely see its inevitable downfall within a few decades.

So before Ichigo blew a fuse and went, as Grimmjow might put it, "Schizo on his sick ass" Aizen sighed and leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees while folding his hands together. An image he liked to give when interacting with a small child maybe.

"Ichigo, I am _concerned _about you. Now take a deep breath and ask me what you've been trying to grunt all night."

Ichigo did take a deep breath, not because Aizen ordered him to but because he was in need of a deep breath at this time anyway. "WHAT took you SO LONG?!" he bellowed out, and then fell back onto his rear with an exasperated sigh and a long much needed intake of oxygen.

"It's only been a few days Ichigo-kun. Did you really miss me that much?" Aizen smiled. Ichigo brought his head up angrily and glared up at Aizen. "Do you mean you FORGOT?" he asked incredibly.

"Forgot what? The last little temper tantrum you threw? Well I remember that quite well. Didn't you refer to me as the devil?" Aizen asked, and if his voice hadn't indicated otherwise, he would've thought Aizen was somewhat hurt at the memory.

"What--?! You-?!" Ichigo jumped to his feet and marched over straight to the man with the twinkle in his eye. Of course Ichigo wasn't _meaning_ to be funny, but for some reason Aizen just couldn't keep from laughing. Although that would cease soon enough.

"You mean to tell me you FORGOT about the deal?!"

"What deal?" Aizen asked calmly, hands still folded as he leaned back into his seat. These chairs were actually very comfortable, despite appearances.

"To let Inoue go!!" he screeched. Aizen's eyes narrowed as Ichigo's bulged out further. "Didn't Ulquiorra tell you?" he asked while rubbing his throat, it being very sore from abusing it for the past 3 days. Ichigo sat down in the chair next to Aizen--well, flopped more like--and gave him a look of questioning, anger, but mostly fatigue.

Ichigo was tired, and if Aizen had known better, he might think Ichigo was tired of fighting. Not that _that_ would ever be the case. Ichigo was a rebel to the core. He never was satisfied until that last fascist was down on the ground, an enemy only to be heard of again in biased history books.

"Didn't...didn't he tell you?"

--

Yoruichi hopped from Tatsuki's shoulder to Urahara's, deftly and nimbly swiping her tail across his face.

"Calm down you fool. Don't get so worked up."

"Ow!" he whined, using his spare hand to rub his cheek, which surprisingly had a red mark from the tail swipe on it.

"Shut up." she said, and turned to the group. "Now, if you want out, say so now. No one will think less of you if--"

"Me! Ooh, ooh! I want out!" Keigo raised his hand in the air wildly and began jumping up and down vigorously, as if it would validate the enthusiasm of his departure. Tatsuki grabbed hold of it with strength not thought possible and threw Keigo to the ground.

"He's only kidding!" Mizuiro chimed in happily as he sat on his friend.

"What the--? Hey!" Keigo grappled the ground and tried to claw his way out, but was met with the terrifying face of Urahara's shop-mate, a man who looked most similar to...well, someone who could beat the crap out of Keigo.

"_Un_comfortable?" he asked a deep, deep, _deep_ voice.

"No." Keigo countered with a perfect soprano.

"Hmm." the man stood up again and nodded his head to Urahara. "He'll go first."

"WHAT?!" he screeched.

"Didn't I just hear him volunteer?" he asked as Urahara made his way over, twirling the knife with grace.

"Doesn't matter." he said in his sing-song choice and leaned down to face Keigo. Keigo shuddered as he stared at the knife that was going to be plunged into God-knows-where. Mizuiro was having some trouble holding down the maniacal little twerp so Chad made his way over and grabbed him by the shoulders. As Keigo was being held in the air by a very solemn Chad, Urahara began polishing the knife on his coat.

"You'll regret this! I'll find a lawyer and I'll sue you! I'll sue you like an American!" Urahara hummed to himself a happy tune as he finished cleaning the knife and started moving it around Keigo's chest, deciding just where to place the wound. After giving a very embarrassing scream that would compete against even Yuzu, Keigo began another approach. "Please! I've got a girlfriend who loves me! She'll kill herself if anything happens to me! She's more of a charity case than anything, without me she has no one who will give her money for food! Aaah! My sister is incapacitated! She threw her back out trying to save a kitten from a tree and she'll go into a coma if I'm not there to give her her medi--No don't! Spare me! I want to LIVE!! NogodnoI'mtooyoungtodieeeeee--oh, ow, ooh...

oh...heehee, oh that tickles!" Keigo began to laugh as the dagger twisted further into his heart. Soon he was laughing gaily and fidgeting horribly. "No stooooop! Oho that tickles!"

"I thought you said it'd be painful." Tatsuki mentioned confusedly.

"Well it is to me." Urahara stated. But then, he'd never liked being tickled. Urahara twisted the knife in deeper while everyone scooted in closer and Keigo flailed about wildly in Chad's disgruntled arms. Carefully, as if he were placing his grandmother's favorite figurine on her nightstand, he began to pull it out. Gold strands came out with it and dissipated once they were a few inches from Keigo's chest. Keigo cooed and cackled as the youngsters around him became very entranced indeed.

"Now what you see here," Urahara said, mouth straining as his hands were occupied by the meticulous act. "Is Keigo's spiritual pressure. Now, the key is," he stopped to take a deep breath. "To make sure it's in fact the pressure you're taking away, and not the soul itself." Everyone's eyes widened at that last part, Keigo included. "So, if you'd like to prevent a 'Body Snatchers' reminiscing, I suggest you **hold** _still_." Keigo didn't even breathe until the process was over.

"Pay attention all." Yoruichi chided. "You might have to do this again."

"Why would we have to deplete our spiritual pressure again?" Uryu asked, instinctually suspecting foul play.

"Well, you don't want Aizen and company to follow you on your way back now do you?" she asked, somewhat annoyed he was questioning her authority. Yoruichi didn't like questions anyway. Something about the way most people asked them just made them look stupid or cocky. If you wanted to know, find the answer yourself--that was her philosophy. Uryu looked at Keigo, holding his breath and looking like a red-faced baboon, and cursed Ichigo for his incompetence.

Urahara was almost complete. The golden strands on closer notice seemed to turn purple as they stretched out from Keigo and the knife, and scattered about the scene in small flecks, slightly reminding Chad of pixie dust. He suddenly couldn't wait for his turn. With one last turn, the knife was out of Keigo and the young boy was left feeling utterly exhausted. In fact, for the first time in his life he actually wanted to fall asleep before 2 in the morning.

"Alright! Now, Tatsuki, come over here." Reluctantly, the bushy haired teen came over and was immediately handed the knife.

"Wh--?" she began before Urahara cut her off.

"You try it with Chad!" he said, and Chad was so surprised himself that he dropped Keigo. Not that it mattered--he was fast asleep anyway.

"B-but! You said I could accidentally suck his soul out!"

"Yes well, Chad trusts you. I'm sure you'll be fine." Chad and Tatsuki stared each other down again. Chad saw a girl who could hardly take care of her hairstyle, much less his soul. Tatsuki saw a human. A human being who's _soul_ was being entrusted to her. "Now come on don't be shy!" he led her over by the shoulders to stand in front of Chad and held up her hand, bringing the knife to Chad's chest. "Go on. Get it over with." he smiled and stepped back a few steps.

"Why are you stepping back?" she asked, paranoia seeping through her veins like a deer in an open field.

"To give you space." he urged. "Now, plunge!" Both stared at him, wondering just how he could be so callous about the whole thing. Tatsuki gulped, but she was never one to back down from a responsibility. Of course, this wasn't like training some new kid. This was a soul at risk, not some disgruntled mother.

Chad took in a deep breath. It would be okay. Tatsuki wasn't reckless. She wouldn't just treat this like another sparring event, something that could be won or lost, no big deal.

She shook herself loose. She just had to treat it like a sparring match. She couldn't think of Chad as human--he was just another person she had to fight, win or lose, no big deal.

Chad knew she would be sure to be empathetic.

She just couldn't think about empathizing.

Chad assured himself she would take the whole thing seriously.

Tatsuki told herself it was just another battle. A Wham, Bam, Thank you Ma'am thing.

Chad was confident that she was focused.

Tatsuki just had to relax.

She took in a deep breath again, and Chad mimicked her. Both had opposing dispositions as well as thoughts, yet both were concerned about the same thing. Surviving, in one way or another. With a crinkling of her brow, she brought her arm up and aimed the knife straight at Chad's heart.

"Here goes nothing." she murmured.

Suddenly Chad didn't feel so good about this.

--

Halibel had been living with Christopher for several months now, and life was never better. Not only did she live in a beautiful house right outside the city, but she had a companion. Christopher was wonderful. He was beautiful, smart and charismatic. Halibel was never the romantic type, in fact she was always the realist, but she had to admit she found a certain degree of satisfaction from the late night talks she had with her Christopher. She loved the way he smelled, she loved the way he walked into the room, and she loved the way he looked at her not with lust, but with something else. She couldn't name it, but it was there. And she knew she gave the look back to him, without it even being intentional.

For the first time in Halibel's lonely, sad life, she was happy.

She was merrily, satisfactorily, distinctly, perfectly happy. That is, until May 12, 1874.

--

Author's Note: Whoo! Wipe my forehead, cause I am sweating. I managed to squeeze this chapter out of some orifice of imagination, and I'm working on the next. Not to say it'll come out anytime soon, but the plot is moving along. I promise. I'm just trying to work in some more plot twists without being overly cheesy or predictable. It's hard though. ;;

I might change that last bit with Halibel, and I want to bring Orihime back, but I can't until I finish this little story. Priorities! And of course, I haven't quite thought out the kinks to Halibel's tragedy. It'll come though, I swear.

WOW, this had a lot of typos. That might happen with the next few chapters, just because I type on a laptop now (a Mac!) and it doesn't automatically fix them. Curses.

I'll try to get another chapter out in two weeks, that's what it comes down to. So uh, yeah...

Tom Waits rocks. you know he makes his own instruments? Bitchin'.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three (...Cries..."You like me! You really like me!")

Halibel smiled as the sun's rays latched onto her gleefully. There was nothing better than the sun, Halibel thought. It darkened her skin, it brightened her hair. It uplifted her spirits and suppressed her foul temper. The sun controlled everything. The sun was God, she concluded. What else could it be? It created life and it was always there. Even the night sky reflected the sun.

She'd never seen the sun in the city. Day after day contained the same bleak sky, and even if the sun had made its appearance, everyone was so focused on life that they never took notice of the greatness above them. How can one greet a guest when they're cleaning the floor?

Christopher was her sun. She looked down on him, smile growing still as tears filled her eyes. His limp form hung in her arms and blood casually seeped into the lining of her dress. His face was relaxed and happy, the only thing out of place was the large hole in his head.

Halibel brought her face down to meet his and cried softly. She gave him one last departing kiss. The sun poured in through the window and illuminated Christopher, turning his yellow hair golden and his pale complexion bright. Even in death, he was perfect.

* * *

"Awake this early?" Christopher smiled. She reached up to hold his hand, and he came down to her level to sit on the bed. He kissed her forehead and she sighed.

"Mm." she made a noise of her affirmation turned onto her back to gaze at his beautiful face.

For a long time neither moved. Christopher looked down on his heaven sent angel, and Halibel smiled up at her savior. Both seemed to savor the moment, only taking in each other and the warmth of the sun, both perfectly happy to have found the other.

"I should go." he said at last, but Halibel refused to relinquish his hand. Instead she brought it to her mouth and brushed it against her lips, smiling at him mischievously. "Now, now." he chided. "I can't laze about in bed all day." Halibel laughed and lightly bit the skin on his wrist, seducing him with her eyes and demanding attention. Halibel could remember the way his breath caressed her face, and the way his eyes penetrated her so deep it affected her heart. She remembered the way his gold locks slipped through her fingers like rain, and his soft hands touching her daringly.

Christopher laughed when she tried to remove his bow tie. "I'll be home later." he assured her. "Scoundrel." she playfully kicked him and he laughed again as he left the room. Halibel sighed as she did every day. Once again, she would be left to her own devises until he returned.

She started with breakfast, bread and cheese was her usual starter, and then took a nice long bath.

Life was good now. It had been strange the first few weeks: she hadn't trusted Christopher, and even held a knife under her pillow for awhile. But he was patient with her, and after holding out his hand for a long time, Halibel eventually came close enough to grab hold of him.

She'd never been happier. She couldn't even imagine what a better life could be like. Yes she had a lovely home, comfortable clean clothes that covered her modest parts and more, and she loved it all. Of course though, it was only Christopher that made the picture whole. She smiled to herself as she lowered herself in the bath, swishing her hands under the water and burying her nose and mouth in the bubbles.

"Darling?" a voice called from outside. Halibel frowned. Lifting herself from the bathtub, she looked outside to see someone not many cared to see before a loose mind was altered by a glass of brandy. She sighed and grumpily sat back in the tub, determined to ignore him. Perhaps he would go away if she didn't answer. Not that she ever spoke to him anyway.

She was wrong.

"Darling!" the bathroom door burst open to reveal a stunning man hardly over the age of 25, wearing a lovely black tailored suit and a larger than life smile that would make you redefine the word 'white'. "There you are! I have some urgent news so please hurry up. Don't make me dress you myself!" Just as loudly as he'd barged in he slammed the door and made himself busy in Halibel's room, rummaging through her belongings as though they were his own.

Making sure she took longer than a few minutes but less than awhile, she emerged from the bathroom in a few modest garments and gave Jean her infamous frown.

"Darling! Aww, now don't be like that! Come I have something to show you." Not bothering to let Halibel finish dressing herself, he grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her out of the room. She was a bit disgruntled by the time they'd reached the destination of the living room, and Halibel would have grumbled her anger if she hadn't been, once again, interrupted.

"Now now, let me see...!" Hurriedly, like a puppy finding the right place to mark its new piece of land, Jean flipped through papers and the like, finding the object of his happiness. Arriving at a piece of paper that appeared to have a list of names and amounts of money on it, he smiled gaily. "Aha! Here it is." he handed her the paper proudly and puffed out his chest, beaming as he did so.

Halibel had barely looked at the paper when she looked at Jean as though he were a complete idiot. Shaking her head with her stoic attitude she gave the paper a wave and raised an eyebrow.

Jean slapped his forehead. "Of course! So sorry my dear, I forgot you couldn't read." He took the paper from her and placed it on the table. Encouraging her forward he pointed to a name in the middle of the list and smiled widely. "We closed the deal. We did it, Christopher and I!" Halibel smiled and even allowed Jean to bring her into a hug. After a few moments, she shoved him off and grabbed the paper again, wanting to see what a closed deal looked like on paper. She smiled down on the strange little scripts in the center of the page and laughed as Jean did a little dance in the center of the room. Just as she was about to put the paper down, something on it caught her eye.

It was true Halibel couldn't read, save for one thing: her own name. A few spaces down Halibel caught sight of her own name and a price next to it. Jean grabbed her hand and pulled her to him.

"Come on Hallie, dance with me!" She wretched herself away from him and pointed to the paper.

"Wh--wha...?" she was so confused she let her hands do the speaking for her.

"Huh?" Jean looked at the spot where her name was listed with a price next to it and knitted his eyebrows together, slowly becoming as confused as she was. "I...I don't understand. According to this..." Jean searched the paper, but stopped as an idea dawned on him. "Oh. Oh...Oh." He looked to Halibel and she ordered him to answer her with a sharp shrug of her shoulders and a gleam in her eye. "I...I didn't think...Surely it can't be what I'm thinking! I'm sure Christopher has an explanation! Halibel we'll wait for him to come home, and he'll tell us everything, I'm _sure_--"

"Jean." she said in a voice so forceful, it had the affect of a mouse snapped into a trap on the kitchen counter.

He looked to her desperately. His once alighted eyes sunk down to the floor and begged for a clemency she wasn't sure she could give. "According to these records...Christopher...sold you."

Silence.

Her eyes demanded for more information; an explanation, _something_ to place the blame off of her savior, but Jean couldn't give it. Halibel's hands dropped to her sides and her heart nearly stopped.

Sold...?

But...didn't Christopher love her? Didn't he love her as much as she loved him? He said so, he said he loved her--!

No. She shook her head and brought a hand to her gradually warming forehead. No, she reflected, he'd never said he loved her. Implied it surely, but the words...had never been uttered. The sudden urge to lie down and never get up again plagued her mind and body, but Halibel was too shocked to move.

Her life had been hell before, filled with devils and demons, why should now be so different? Christopher was no more than a cleverly disguised Lucifer. How foolish of her to be so optimistic. Of course...Of course! He'd gotten her for free, and now had the option of getting so much out of it! What a stroke of luck for him! To have picked up a stray that was worth so much! Limp hands turned into fists, and Halibel realized now she that she was shaking. Closing her eyes and inhaling a deep breath, she now only desired one thing.

Revenge.

"Halibel? Please...what are you thinking...? Don't--!" A swift kick knocked Jean into the small coffee table and the young man coughed violently, spitting up some blood most likely caused from a bitten tongue. "Hawi--" Another kick sent him a few feet away and with a few carefully placed fingers, Halibel knocked him unconscious. After shoving his body into a closet and locking it, Halibel brushed her hands and headed off. She had plans to carry out.

* * *

"Halibel? Halibel?" Christopher's voice resounded in the hallway, but there was no response. Curious to not hear the usual fluttering of feet followed by a pleasant embrace, Christopher hung his jacket on the wall and walked into the living room. "Halibel?" Nothing still. He walked around to the kitchen, searching all corners and checking outside of the windows. "Has Jean come by yet?"

Clicking emanating from the hall resounded and Christopher smiled to see a familiar figure. "There you are!...Is something wrong?" His statement was shortly responded to by having a small pistol aimed to his temple. "What...Halibel?"

Her eyes flamed as she thought of his betrayal. How could he look so innocent as he stared straight into the face of the one he'd wronged? In less than a second she lowered the gun and shot him in the leg. He cried out in pain, grabbing onto his leg as he plummeted to the ground. Throwing the paper to the ground, Halibel knelt beside him and forced his face to look at the center fold, where her name was. She didn't bother to look at his expression before kicking his injured leg. He cried out again, not able to utter out anything in his defense. Grabbing his face and twisting it painfully to meet her own, she stared him down with a cold anger and fierce green eyes.

"How could you?" She asked. She didn't bother trying to decipher what could have been panic, fear, or even anger coming from Christopher's eyes. Before another moment could pass, Halibel lifted the gun to his forehead and shot.

The thud of his head hitting the ground nearly made her sick.

It could have been seconds, minutes, or days before she felt the feeling go back into her fingers. They were cold and her index finger seemed to be in so much pain as she removed it from the trigger. She didn't question her motive or the righteousness of her act. She'd do it again, if she had to remake the choice. Silent unassuming tears slid down her face as she went to the kitchen to get the cleaning supplies.

Thud!

Halibel dropped her mop and turned around quickly. She'd killed him right? Yes the bullet went straight into his head. Then what was--?

Thud!

Her eyes moved to the closet door as she realized her immediate problem. Jean.

More thudding resounded as she tried to figure out what to do. She couldn't kill him, but then, what about the body? She swallowed though her mouth was dry and clenched her fists. She would just run away. It was her only option.

Bang! Bang, Bang! Halibel's eyes widened as she heard three gunshots from the closet. All had aimed for the knob, and in so doing it had successfuly been blown off. Before Halibel could even think, Jean walked out of the closet, adjusting his tie while wiping off the sweat on his brow.

"God that place is hot." He looked around casually, eyes drifting from the spot of his own old blood near the small table to the hallway. He smiled, walking towards the dead body of his old friend. He lifted Christopher's arm with his foot, then put it back down. He looked to Halibel, eyes holding an expression Halibel had never seen in the young man before.

Jean suddenly kicked Christopher in the head and spit on his body. Scoffing he made his way over to Halibel, waving around the gun while smiling.

"'If you want something done right, do it yourself.' eh? I guess not when you have a dumb woman involved." he pointed the gun to the startled Halibel's head. "Any last prayers?" he asked.

Halibel's eyes narrowed. A hurt sneer came across her face as she shuddered. Realizing the truth, she bent over and vomited. Dumb indeed, she told herself shamefully.

"Yes yes, it was all a set up. I wanted the money and couldn't very well kill him myself, yadda yadda it was all my evil plot and now I'll kill you too, if you don't mind." Jean summed up, bored with the whole ordeal and only wanting the money he had worked so hard to get.

Halibel stopped her stomach from emptying itself further and looked up at Jean, wondering how it all had happened. His eyes looked down at her along with the gun, completely void of anything resembling humanity. His eyes were grey with hate and primal instinct. Halibel didn't need a closer look to realize they were the same eyes she'd occupied before she met Christopher.

"Think of it this way, you'll be with him very shortly." Jean cocked the gun and shot skillfully, a shot that would have killed any normal mortal human being. But Halibel wasn't normal. Combined with a fury of passion and anger, Halibel kicked Jean in the knee, causing the shot to go awry. She stomped on his stomach and took the gun from him, pointing it down at him. Jean's eyes hadn't changed. he looked at her with the same boredom as before, but now they had another element to them. Disappointment. He smiled. "They say after the first time...you get used to it." Halibel stared down at him, not wondering how he could do such horrible things, but wondering if there was really such a difference between them, even now.

"...Is it true?"

* * *

Halibel held Christopher close and looked at Jean's mutilated body. One shot hadn't been enough.

_Halibel smiled at Christopher and he brought his hand up to her chin. Fingers ghosting over her lips, he looked at her with the barest hint of a smile playing on his face._

_"Halibel, you see this?" he brought her to face the mirror and put his two index fingers on each side of her face, indicating her smile. She nodded. "This is mine."_

She cradled Christopher's head and brought her hand, which was now covered in her lover's blood, to her mouth. Touching it lightly, she could taste the metallic flavor on her lips. Slowly, she reached over to grab the same pistol she'd used against Christopher. Putting the gun to her head, she only had one thought appear in her mind.

_Hell beckons._

* * *

Author's Note: Well that was uplifting. Not. In case you're wondering why Halibel said practically nothing, I was challenging myself to give her less than ten words and still make it believable. Needless to say I failed. Mada Mada dane.

So somehow I managed to crap this chapter out. This was definitely the most constipated piece of work I've done yet. I was just dreading it to be honest with you. I still feel like it's exactly that, crap, but I figure at least this will move the plot along. Now I can move on to Orihime and Ichigo and all the rest, cause I've got a lot to untangle. I don't want more than 35 chapters, so the ending is coming...fairly...soon. Soon being relative of course, considering I'm not even going to try and set a deadline for myself.

And not that I'm trying to get anything out of you, it's just a fact that I tend to get to work when you guys pester me. So thank Rionarch. If you like this story (even after this chapter) you should thank her. Yeah.

Um, so I'm going to give you Aizen and Ichigo in the next chapter, cause you've all been so good. I'll try to stick some nice touchy-touchy contact. Just for you! XD

And yeah that's basically it. Rock on Queen.

P.S. All spelling mistakes are courtesy of my new mac. The word program sucks nipples.


	24. Chapter 24

Sum up: Rangiku has been fatally injured during a hollow fight on earth, and her Captain has taken her to the Kurosaki Clinic for medical care. Orihime is still hopelessly apart from all of her friends and demands to see the one person she has a chance to help. Don't forget, Rukia and Renji have been let loose from prison by the one and only vagrant Zaraki and are on their way to save their friends--again. And lastly, Ichigo discovers his strange powers to heal himself, and tells Ulquiorra to tell Aizen to let Orihime go. And now unfolds...

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Four

Strange as the image might be, Gin used to play the guitar.

His long skinny fingers would prick and pull on the strings with expertise, playing the simplest of tunes or the most convoluted. Rangiku remembered how his smile would soften until it almost disappeared in thoughtfulness, and then slowly appeared again when a favorite lick would come next down the line of music. Each chord struck Rangiku's stomach with a pang of relief and relaxation, the hard melodies quivering through her body and reminding her of the reason she loved Gin so much.

He was thoughtful.

He gave her his blanket when she was cold, he gave her a smile when she was lonely, he gave her his soul when she'd asked for his heart--

But he'd taken it all back.

Why? she wondered. He'd meant so much to her, hadn't she meant the same to him? Rangiku realized that the tragic self-pitying feelings she felt were more likely due to recent events that sucked her of most her blood and nutrients, but until she got better, the thoughts that came couldn't be avoided.

Rangiku opened her weak eyelids and turned her head slowly towards the light, intentionally trying to blind herself to the world, and maybe the truth along with it. Instead she found a sight that was slightly more pleasing than having your eyes burn by the blazing sun. Her small captain was about 10 meters outside her window, frantically shouting and eyebrows twisted into the same expression that only a select few including Rangiku could interpret as pouting. His face was flushed, but underneath the pale skin lay a small hint of a blush.

All of the pain was wiped out from seeing the look on that face. Rangiku never thought herself special, but she was always something of an exception, for in a moment where most would come to resent the boy, Rangiku was perfectly happy that he was in love.

* * *

Orihime gasped, jumping and turning when the foreboding figure suddenly came into her sight, like a frog jumping out of a still pond. Ulquiorra stood beside her solemnly as ever, black tears the only expression that would ever cross his face.

"You frightened me." She said, holding her chest to stop her heart from beating so loudly. Ulquiorra said nothing as he brought the tray to sit on the table.

"Eat." he commanded. Orihime sighed, determined, and pushed it away lightly.

"I told you." she said firmly, crossing her arms. "I won't eat until I see Kurosaki-kun."

Ulquiorra's jaw quivered ever so slightly. "If you do not finish this plate by the time I return--"

"I'll die before I eat." she stopped him in mid-sentence with a fierce glare, one that stated 'I mean business'. Her eyes flashed, showing a part of her personality Ulquiorra rarely saw. The one time he'd seen it was when he had declared her friends were as good as dead the first time they came around. Her ferocity had vanished quickly then to be replaced by many tears. Now however...

"If it is not eaten shortly then I shall report to Aizen-sama." he informed her softly as he approached. Orihime barely blinked as he came so close to her that she could feel his cold breathe caressing her wrinkled forehead. The time had long passed for any modesty to be of an issue. "He will not be pleased." he all but whispered.

"If that's all then I don't care." she stated, bravely waving her hand to excuse him and walking to sit on the edge of her bed. "It's no more than...than a damn bureaucracy."

Ulquiorra stood quietly for a moment, as per tradition. The moon seemed to cradle her in its light, turning her into what Ulquiorra imagined an angel might look like. Her hair looked golden and her eyes gleamed silver. Her white clothing acted like feathery robes only a holy being would wear as casual garb. Her pale face seemed to glow when contrasted to the plaguing darkness and Ulquiorra found it almost too hard to grasp.

Such a creature didn't belong here.

He didn't understand her, and he never would. She didn't understand him, and she would never want to. Ulquiorra left the room and closed the door as gently as he could, so no resounding click would echo through the large halls of this white hell. Ulquiorra trodded through his home, idly thinking of what Ichigo had told him of just a few days before. The knowledge of the conversation had become sharp and hazy throughout the days, the time becoming longer and shorter respectively. Suddenly it seemed such a burden and a waste to withhold the message, and Ulquiorra drifted down a path he'd done a remarkable job of unknowingly avoiding.

He should've done this long ago.

* * *

Run.

That's what she had to focus on.

Never mind she had almost next to no clues what was going on with all of her friends. Never mind that her hand was broken and when every few seconds the wind would toss over some object to fling at her small limb it made tears jump automatically into her eyes, making her focus that much harder to grasp. Never mind she was nearly tripping over the borrowed gi. Never mind, never mind, never mind.

Run. Faster.

Rukia panted, her mouth was dry but somehow saliva managed to make its way out of her mouth in small bursts referred to as spit. Not that Rukia remembered, she was focused on...what? Oh that. The cleaner behind them.

"Gettin' tired runt?" Zaraki grinned ear to ear, reminding her of a balloon she'd gotten at a fair one time as a small child. Actually, Renji had stolen it from another child for her, but his pursuit was for not. She'd popped it the second it reached her hands.

Rukia cursed as she pushed herself faster, lifting the gi so she wouldn't do the worst of things at a time like this and trip to her death.

Ironic, she thought, that a 'Cleaner's' death would be such an unclean cleanup.

"Come on!" Renji urged.

"I'm coming you idiot! Why don't you worry about running faster yourself you dimwitted twat!" she barked. Even though she could only see his back she could tell he was frowning unattractively.

"I'm just warning you!"

"You think THIS--" she pointed at the raving monster behind her, rushing at them like a dog after a rabbit. "isn't enough warning?!"

"Fine I'll shut up!"

"Great!" She shouted and puffed her disdain. Just because she had shorter legs didn't mean--

Renji reached out behind him and grabbed onto her hand, pulling her forward and throwing her out the hole with acrobatic-like skills. Screaming, she met the air and floated just above a cloud. She halted her cry and looked about. Her eyes softened as she looked at the sky around her, the comforting blue that seemed to be everywhere, encompassing her, spreading its warmth and love, telling her 'I remember you' as she remained motionless in time, motionless in space, motionless yet loved.

Then she looked down.

Screaming bloody mary as she fell, even then she knew she would probably regret from embarrassment. Falling at an astronomic speed, she plummeted into the sand and came up bursting for air, momentarily shocked by the freezing temperatures as they dowsed her mouth full of icy oxygen and seized her lungs.

Ah! ground! She missed ground that didn't threaten her! She rolled around for a moment, feeling the millions of grains moving and acomoddating to her form. The sand was cold and made her shiver, but she was grateful, so grateful!, that for the moment, everything was at peace.

Then she looked up.

By all means, Renji was not a fat man. In fact, he was a very lean man, and as a boy he had often had many offensive teasings that he was a girl, and an anorexic one at that. But since such lengths had been made to assure Renji 'yes, you do look like Miss Michigan cut from the thighs' from then on Renji had stolen any egg within sight, she that he had lots of muscles to shut up the next person to mock him.

This did not bode well for Miss Rukia.

Without much time for preparation--and in hindsight, maybe a good thing--he landed on her full force and crushed her poor body into the dry snow of desert. Even as the pain threatened to make her vomit, she thanked whatever deity existed that Renji was in fact her best friend. _One less person to overkill,_ she thought leisurely.

"Rukia! Oh my god I'm so sorry Rukia! God are you alright? For hell's sake answer me! Rukia! RUKIA!"

"Shut UP you lame-brained aphrodisiac monkey!" she choked out. Renji was only able to catch, 'Fut WAG woo ametmant frogackt mooohey!', and it was the kick to the head that got him in the mindset that she was angry with him.

"It wasn't intentional!" he shouted, though still apologetic to the trained ear. Rukia shouted some more incoherent insults before spitting out a good portioned bucket of sand, and then, to the best of her aching muscles' abilities, kicked the living shit out of him.

"Geronimooo!" came a shout from above, and both were shocked silent. Before either had time to think, enough time to run run run again for your lives! Zaraki slammed into the ground, causing a tidal wave of sand that buried them both underground, with only their toes to tell the story of their existence.

It had been a long day, Rukia later recollected.

Zaraki, still smiling like the killer clown he was, shook out the sand from his shihakusho like a dog and settled his eyes on the former prisoners.

"Kennyyyy!" a happy voice made its presence by jumping out of a concealed place within Zaraki's mountain of robes and smiled happily at the dunes that lay before them.

The odd group of four stared out at the scene before them.

"Again..." Rukia sighed, dismayed at the memory of a thousand painful events that had taken place here.

"Again." Renji said softly, clapping his hand on her shoulder and staring at the mosque-like building in the distance.

Zaraki brought out his sword and ran his finger along the edge. Pressing hard enough to cut it off, it was so dull from previous fights and lack of upkeep it would be difficult to cut a slab of butter. Just the way he liked it.

And without further ado, our largest, bear-like hero simpered heavily and swiped his katana across the wind, causing several trees from miles away to fall over, cracked and dead.

"Let's kill these bitches."

* * *

Karin ran into the nearest alley and jumped into the dumpster without a second thought. Actually, this was a bit untrue, only the second thought had nothing to do with the state of jumping into a dumpster. It was more along the lines of, "These damn shorts are ridding up my ass!"

It was correct, the shorts she was wearing today were vastly different from other trousers she might wear since Yuzu had insisted that all of her clothes were too dirty for further usage and took the liberty of buying Karin's clothing herself--most had pretty little butterflies or bumblebees on them with dotted lines marking their wavy traveling path along the side of her thigh or into the lining of the pocket.

Karin had protested her share, but Yuzu had torn off the tags immediately and had them burned. It seemed as though dressing up her dolls were no longer of satisfactory amusement for her anymore. Karin held back the fit she'd wanted to have and bore it, ripping off the butterflies, dying the clothing darker colors: pink became wine, lime became a Black Forest green, and yellow became black.

But for all her effort, nothing could be done about the length of her new clothing, and so the short shorts remained short shorts, and as a consequence they were making her ability to squat hindered. She crouched as low as she could, flicking a banana peel off her elbow and moving a can of mackerel from cutting her knee and feeling very much like she was in a Dickins' novel.

Not a moment later a large group of boys barely older than she but easily twice as large each cam barreling, for that what boys of young age and lack of coordination can only manage, looking for the misfortunate Karin. She ground her teeth, waiting for them to get bored and move on, when one unfortunately had the brilliant revelation to come and rest by sitting on top of the dumpster. She ducked under the lid and soon after came a nice _crunch_ and her air supply was temporarily gone. She breathed through her mouth, but she found it didn't help too much, as occasionally a fly would try to come into her mouth.

She heard mumblings, and she knew their search was far from over. A weight was lifted off the lid, but she didn't try to open it. It would be done by another shortly. Karin held her breath for the new reason of being about to be caught and got her fist ready. The mumblings continued, and then grew louder. Her fist relaxed and she stared fixedly on the ceiling of the lid, waiting for the attack that wasn't coming. A gush of wind jolted the dumpster and she rocked back, wincing as she landed on a broken bottle. In her new position Karin found herself looked at her legs, and saw curiously enough she had goosebumps all over them. She was _cold_ she suddenly realized. Why was it so cold? She held her arms close to her body and shivered, trying to regain the warmth, but just as soon as it had come it was gone, and everything was silent.

Karin was too baffled to even think of a reason for the occurrence. She had just worked up her courage to open the top, when--as she had expected before--it was done for her. Surprised and caught off guard, she jumped out of the dump and tackled the boy. She'd landed one punch before stopping and staring at her victim. The alley was empty, save for herself--covered in trash and mush no less--and a small boy with white hair and glaring green eyes.

"What...What are you doing here?!" she demanded.

* * *

Author's Note: It's hard to write fanfiction when you're simultaneously cleaning house and learning German. Seriously, it ain't easy. Don't mind my fixation for Karin/Toushirou, I find them adorable, but it won't be a major plotline (though originally she was going with them...oh well, as Bowie says, "Ch-ch-ch-changes!!)


	25. Chapter 25

Sum up: Ichigo has asked Aizen to let Orihime go, thinking he has her powers.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Five

Aizen smiled.

This wasn't anything new of course, Aizen always smiled at anything that made him happy, angry or surprised, but he smiled.

Ichigo didn't like it when Aizen smiled.

"Ah. Yes. That." Aizen tilted his head to one side, his wavy brown hair shifting slightly despite the product that worked so hard to keep it in place. The one brown lock that hung in front of his forehead seemed to quiver slightly, and if Ichigo had thought hair could talk, the hair would have been laughing at him. For what, Ichigo wasn't the least bit inclined to know. "Tell me your conditions exactly."

"Wh..." Ichigo was taken aback, not sure how to respond. The man had gone over this three days, and he wanted to know conditions? Again? "Well of course you let Orihime go!" he said simply. Any other rightful demand not entering his head.

"Why?" Aizen asked.

Ichigo paused. "Why?"

"Why."

"Why."

"Why?"

"Why NOT?!"

Aizen said nothing. Aizen smiled.

"I have her powers! You don't need her! Let her go home, she has nothing to do with this!" Against his intentions to remain semi in control, his eyes were blurring uncomfortably, and his cheeks were blazing. Ichigo was momentarily distraught by the fact he was on the verge of tears, something that had not happened since...well.

"What makes you so sure?"

"So sure of WHAT?" Ichigo screeched, fingernails scraping his hair, clawing it into obedience to stay out of his wet eyes.

"You have her powers?"

"I can HEAL myself! I did it, see?" he shoved his hand into Aizen's face, far closer than necessary and far more hastily than a man who was bargaining for his friend's life should. Aizen took hold of the hand and noticed, aside from the fact it had nice long fingers and was slightly clammy, had a sincere scar from the knuckle to the wrist, acknowledging the gash that had taken place on the battlefield of the young man's flesh.

If indeed Ichigo had this kind of cut, there could be no way that he could heal so well in only three days unless of course there had been some kind of catalyst.

"How did this come about?" Aizen asked, running his fingers along the scar, quietly easing the skin beneath his fingers into comfort, and the young man attached the immediate opposite.

"I-I was angry and I punched the mirror."

"A correct past time for you I'm sure."

Ichigo bit back his biting remark of 'Up yours' and continued. "And I just wanted it to heal...and it did."

"Any flashing lights? Harps playing? Voices reassuring you of your faith?"

"Huh?"

"A joke. It seems one has to laugh at their own cleverness for others to detect them nowadays." Aizen studied the hand a moment longer before dropping it unceremoniously. "Very well. I'll let her go."

Ichigo stopped breathing. Breathing would mean that time was going on, and he wanted to savor this moment, keep it real, solid, cohesive forever. Did he mean it? No he couldn't...did he mean it?

Ichigo stared with nut brown eyes the size of walnuts at the man before him, taking in every part of his face that would agree or disagree with the statement he's heard not a second ago.

The jaw was straight, and not a bit too taut with stress to give away any lies. HIs forehead was free of any wrinkles and his cheeks clean of blushing. HIs eyes stared back at Ichigo, intense in the word Ichigo couldn't describe. It was like comparing white wine with red, and Aizen's eyes were no doubt of the red variety.

Ichigo took a chance. He swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing uncertainly and spoke, "I don't trust you." barely above a whisper.

Aizen's chin fell slightly, and his mouth gave way to utter something that Ichigo had not intended to hear.

"Good."

Aizen stood and put his hand on Ichigo's shoulder. Ichigo didn't follow his gaze, but stared with transfixed attention at the place Aizen had spoken the word Ichigo just heard.

"I have some things to attend to Ichigo, I'll be back in an hour, and I'll take you to the bath house. Be ready." It was soft spoken command, and then Aizen left the room for Ichigo to be alone with his conscience.

Ichigo was never sure of what Aizen meant. His actions and words counteracted like a birthmark on a supermodel. But this he understood. This had been completely honest. For some reason which Ichigo couldn't fathom, something inside him clenched tightly. He tried to cover it up, wrap hundreds of rubber bands around it, not understanding the feeling at all.

But the gratitude he felt for Aizen Sousuke's honesty at that moment could not be overwhelmed by anything so pitiful as shame.

* * *

Aizen's eyes brightened the corridor's, turning their glaring whiteness into a light so blinding, a convict would have frozen in place and waited for the police to begin their microphone commands. He wasn't particularly smiling, but looking at him one was under the impression he was laughing aloud.

Arrancar avoided his reiatsu and skimpered down unknown halls, waiting for the force to pass so they could carrying on with their insignificant existences after death.

Aizen liked to know things. He loved it in fact. He remembered as a young mn he would constantly partake in stupid acts and read pointless books, not because he was remotely interested in the subject, but just because he wanted to know more than anyone who was actually elated by the subject. Aizen, from the beginning of his time, had always wanted to be the Master of all. He remembered he'd even tried synchronized swimming at one point, just so he could degrade one particular woman on the worthlessness of the activity.

'To be in perfect sync with others is to merely be a drone that is incapable for thinking for oneself.' he remembered telling her, no hint of haughtiness and smiling as though he were merely telling her of the weather.

Aizen loved the feeling of one-upping another person. He loved knowing more, having more, _being _more than anyone else.

Which explained his current mood, in that he was remarkably pleased with himself that he'd known everything from the start. Everyone was so _simple,_ he thought. He wondered for a moment just why Ulquiorra had neglected to tell him in the first place (not that it had mattered) about Ichigo's new ability, but laughed at his thought. Could it be a reverse Stockholm Syndrome?

Aizen walked up to his throne and lightly rested his cheek onto his hand, not smiling, yet still smiling. Ichigo was perfect. He understood nothing of what Aizen did but understood everything he said. He understood who Aizen was and at the same time was baffled at the consequences it usually incurred.

Aizen drummed his fingers in no particular rhythm on his left and sighed into his palm. Maybe he would let her go, just to see the bulging eyes and open mouth of his male prisoner.

But then again, maybe not.

* * *

Urahara smiled. He had never seen so many red faces before. All of the group before him had the complexion of a beet, and Urahara couldn't help but be a tad pleased with himself.

Turns out no one had any problems with the soul release.

Although, in another sense, _everyone_ had trouble with the soul release. Shocking to be sure, but Urahara had withheld a bit of information from them all, and that was something they all would have _wanted_ to know. Urahara had done it not only for the pleasure of their embarrassment, but for practicality as well. It wouldn't have made a difference if they'd known, they would have had to go through with it anyway. So Urahara left the information behind closed lips, and no one was the wiser until after their release had been performed.

Here's the little secret that Urahara did not share: A soul release is remarkably similar to the act of sex.

No one was quite sure of it at first. Tatsuki was in such a nervous state of not trying to kill Chad, she didn't notice the soft grunts and his trembling legs. Everyone had been so focused on the knife being slowly twisted out of his chest, they didn't see Chad's remarkable self control of stopping his throat form betraying him. Chad had walked off, dazed and worn out and no one thought a thing of it other than the wonderful elation, "He won't eat my brains, thank GOD!" coming of course, from Keigo.

Next was Uryu. Uryu was more than shocked at the clenching feeling in his gut that wasn't pain, and was yet so very painful at the same time. Thrashing waves of ecstasy, need, and humiliation was let out in one strangled cry, and for a moment everyone was a bit baffled. It was ignored, as his teeth were clenched very tightly and all seemed to notice the small beads of sweat he now carried on his brow. Curious suspicions arose as he panted and gasped, finally letting out a single cry as the knife finally exited the cavity in his chest.

Poor, poor Tatsuki.

No one would have expected it, as it was, not everyone could _comprehend_ it, but it was so. Tatsuki was very, very loud. Trying her best to stay on her feet and not move too much, she showed much self-restraint, but could not prevent the moans she let out at the peek of her climax. She'd passed out on the spot, and no one dared move her.

Mizuiro chuckled as his turn came, and did his best to keep on a smile and good humor.

He was louder than Tatsuki.

Now the gang stood before him, shifty eyes and shuffling feet, no one standing too close to the other, and Urahara and Yoruichi perfectly knowing and smirking all the while. No one said anything as Urahara did his duties and opened a gargantua, and all rushed inside, as if it was a kind of salvation to come.

Urahara laughed quietly and wished them luck. He wished he could be there for the second time they did it.

* * *

Mizuho hated her job, but not as much as she loved it.

Her boss was an asshole, and one of these days she was just going to take those dumb sunglasses off his face and eat them. As she was getting her stomach pumped out, she would still be smiling and he would still be screaming at her about how those Ray Bans had cost him a month's wages, and she wouldn't care.

She hated how the floor was never clean and how whenever she actually went to the effort of sweeping and mopping it, her dumb, fat coworker would just sit there and read a tabloid magazine, muttering in a German accent how things here were so dirty they weren't even worth cleaning. It didn't matter she wasn't actually German.

The clock on the wall was broken, and she always had a hell of a time --ironically-- when she forgot to bring her watch. She would have to squint across the street at the shop across the road and look at the street clock, which always made her eyes hurt.

She worked at the most recently built Starbucks, and she hated it.

She loved it however, because of the shop next door.

The shop next door was a sandwich shop. The paint was crusting and it looked like a second hand pawn shop compared to the newly made and painted corporate Starbucks that sat upright and stuck up next to it. The sign had misspelt 'Sandwich' to 'Sendwhich', which often confused foreigners who thought it was a mailing office.

The tables and chairs were worn in the front of the shop, and the entire place reeked of meat and old tomatoes. What she loved about this shop was not the shop itself, but the man inside. She'd remembered he'd stayed at her house for a time about 9 months ago, and every day at 2 o'clock, he would come out and sweep the sidewalk. He scowled constantly, and sometimes his lower lip would come out so far, she would wonder if perhaps he had a competition with himself to see just how far it would go. He had the strangest eyes, and sometimes wondered if maybe he was a Norwegian Pop Star or maybe in a gang.

But the best part about him coming out of the shop every day at 2 o'clock, was that she would have a perfect view of his shaved head and tight ass.

Mizuho would never call herself boy-obsessed, but if there's a nice ass in front of you, anyone would appreciate it. Especially when it came from a tall sexy guy that you wanted to jump anyway.

So every day Mizuho would sigh and smile, leaning her face into her hands so heavily her cheeks would puff out like a baby's. The sun would gleam off his round skull and she would fantasize rubbing suntan lotion on it while wrapping her legs around his muscled (she imagined) waist.

Everyday she would imagine him coming in and taking her then and there on the pasty counter, her boss and coworker staring with shock and envy (her boss was _so_ gay), until the day he actually came inside.

* * *

A/N: Cool I finished. :D

I am SO much happier with Aizen now, but I still want your opinions. So in the words of Perfect Circle, "Gimme Gimme Gimme". And if you read the first part before, read the end again, because that's been changed.

And now the Tomato-face Amigos are on their way to save their friends. Yay! Any reactions?

And for those that don't remember, Mizuho is Keigo's older sister, she rocks and has an affinity for guys with shaved heads. You should all know who she's talking about here!


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter Twenty-Six

Ichigo disrobed nervously, his glance flickering to the man next to him. It was just a little awkward getting naked in front of a man that could kill you in an instant, not to mention had already tried before. Ichigo swallowed noticeably and shivered from the cold a bit. He undressed quickly and placed his modesty towel around him, complaining that a modesty towel should actually cover all of the bases efficiently.

He noticed Aizen was taking his time, leisurely removing his garments as if he had all the time in the world. He did in a way, Ichigo thought idly to himself. This was the man that had taken the Soul Society by storm and had then left them to find his own better and greater future somewhere else. No one was really willing to come here unless forced, so Aizen did really have all the time he needed. _Especially with Inoue-san. _Ichigo thought grimly to himself.

His wary mood turned cross at the thought of Orihime being in a place like this. Ichigo could take it, but Orihime? He wondered just how lonely she was with Ulquiorra being the only one, aside from Aizen, being able to talk to her. He missed her, he suddenly realized. He missed her optimistic smile and her comforting hand-waving-maniacally gestures. He missed her awkward apologies and her soft gray eyes. He sighed sadly and looked to the floor. He was so glad she would be leaving this soon...he turned to look at his captor and her soon-to-be-liberator when he accidentally caught an image he didn't care to witness. He looked in the opposite direction immediately, taking his glance more than willingly from the misplaced direction to which he had looked.

_Get over it Ichigo, it's not that big a deal._ He told his reddening face. _It's just a stupid—_

"Ready Ichigo?"

"Y-yeah." He stuttered quickly and leaped from his sitting position. He walked to the edge of the baths and looked around him. It was..._big_. Bigger than he'd anticipated. Sure he'd sneaked in a peek earlier, but...Las Noches was just bigger altogether than he'd thought.

Lots of things here were bigger than he'd anticipated. Ichigo smacked his head with his hand and shook it out furiously. No, _no_, he never thought about that. He never anticipated _anything_. _Right Ichigo?_ He asked himself sternly and jumped into the large bath, towel still on. He bobbed to the surface and shook out his hair, then took his towel from his waist and put it on the floor above him.

Aizen chuckled quietly enough, but given the echoing effect of the bath Ichigo heard it clearly. He scowled from under the water but refused to look in Aizen's direction until _after_ he'd entered the pool. _Completely._

He felt the water lap against his body, warm water moving at the entry of another person. Aizen settled himself down and relaxed against the warm stones. There were very few places in Las Noches that were actually warm, and this was one of them. He leaned back and let the steaming water loosen the knots in his back.

Things were stressful as of late for Aizen Sousuke. He opened his eyes slightly, taking a quick peek at the young man playing in the water in front of him. Ichigo was contented to splash the water back and forth between his palms, reiatsu flaring and firing small bits of water back and forth, back and forth. Aizen smiled lightly to himself. Looking at Ichigo he could almost call him a man, mentally however...

Ichigo wasn't at all stupid, or really that immature, but in so many ways was he still so _young_, so inexperienced that Aizen couldn't help but smile at the innocence before him. Ichigo was many things, but experienced he was not. Aizen watched the rambunctious boy before him play with the water for a few minutes before Ichigo began to grow tired of his activity.

He searched around him, trying to find something that would capture his attention when Aizen decided to cosset his needs. He swiftly and unnoticeably made his way behind Ichigo and grabbed his neck. Ichigo yelped in surprise and tried to turn around. A thought popped into Aizen's mind, and he decided to indulge himself. Quickly and efficiently Aizen pushed Ichigo's head under the water for only a second. Ichigo popped back up like a Jack-in-the-Box and spluttered indignantly.

"You...! What the hell man?! Are you trying to kill me again?!" his nearly shrill voice echoed with Aizen's laughter.

"Hardly. I'm just having a little fun." He replied with a suspicious gleam in his eye. Ichigo noticed this first thing and tried to swim away from the man. Aizen laughed again and brought Ichigo back under the water. Ichigo struggled but then thought better of it. Aizen was merely holding him down, so he pushed down off of Aizen's hold and then swam back to the surface. However Aizen was waiting for him, so when Ichigo did make his appearance, Aizen merely grabbed hold of his toy again and shoved it back under the water. Ichigo flailed his arms back and forth, and Aizen decided after about ten seconds that he should let him come up for some probably much needed air.

"Bah!" Ichigo came up and took in several deep and panicked breaths, waiting for Aizen to pull him under water again. When he saw that the older man was merely looking at him, he backed away a bit and calmed down. "That was messed up." Aizen smiled amiably and Ichigo sighed. The guy was an enigma.

Aizen looked at Ichigo in all his wet glory. He was covered in warm droplets of water, hair slightly limp at its new weight. His orange hair came into his eyes, and Aizen didn't think it was such a bad look for Ichigo to have his hair down flat rather than spiked. He noticed the well-defined muscles of his young captive and admired him. Ichigo had become taller in the three months since he was first brought to Hueco Mundo and was now within maybe 6 inches of Aizen's own height. Ichigo's breathing had gone back to its normal pace and Aizen smiled to himself thoughtfully.

Ichigo looked sideways at his enemy and gulped. That wasn't good. Aizen reached out for him again, but this time Ichigo dodged, ready for the attack. Aizen moved a few steps forward and latched onto the younger's arm. Ichigo attempted to get away forcefully, but it just wasn't cutting it, so before he went under, he grabbed hold of Aizen's hair and waited. Aizen pulled him under and Ichigo dragged him down with him.

Both men struggled under water, but Aizen looked at Ichigo with a new purpose. He saw the young man, struggling under the water and something snapped. It wasn't often Aizen came to a realization about himself. Everything about Aizen was perfectly planned and positioned like a chest board, ready to manipulate. So when Aizen suddenly looked at Ichigo and saw him as a _person_, well, needless to say Aizen knew something was wrong. Of course, it wasn't wrong enough that it wasn't pleasing.

Aizen had spent all his life seeing people thoroughly, making sure hew had every personality trait down so that he could use that later for his own benefit. He wasn't accustomed to seeing another's flaws and liking them. This was the case with Kurosaki Ichigo. It was sad really, the way his eyes were bulging underwater and how he struggled so desperately it was hardly what could be called attractive. Despite the fact he was a hero and a good boy, Ichigo was hardly perfect and exactly that--a boy. Aizen was a man, men did not love boys. They made fun of them, mocked them or taught them, making sure they left the path of childhood and became what nature had planned--manliness. Something in Aizen's gut--something that often went unused as it had no certain gravity for life decisions--told him that though Kurosaki ichigo was a tool for him, he always would be so much more.

Ichigo was his challenge, the adamant protagonist in the story that was being turned into a hidden history. Ichigo was the oversized hammer that needed to be learned how to be controlled for the sake of building Aizen's ship of a World Dominance plan. Ichigo was loved where Aizen was revered and Ichigo was despised where Aizen was feared. The thing about Ichigo was that to Aizen, he was so much more than one answer.

Ichigo was Aizen's fate.

And so Aizen did something Ichigo wasn't likely to appreciate. He brought his hands down from the top of Ichigo's head to clutch onto the sides of his face and pulled Ichigo towards him.

Before Ichigo had a chance to register what Aizen was doing, Aizen Sousuke had already planted his lips onto Ichigo's and was kissing the boy softly under the small waves of the warm water.

Ichigo's eyes remained open while Aizen continued his activity. Ichigo froze, completely baffled by the how or why of this incident. Aizen kissed him softly and then finally brought Ichigo and himself up for air. He didn't back away from the young man and only allowed a short period of release in which he gulped down a bit of air and resumed his business. Aizen towered over him, cupping his face and holding Ichigo slightly below him.

For the second time in Ichigo's life, it was Aizen that would force Ichigo to give up before he even fought. Ichigo hung almost limply in Aizen's arms, trying to control the mental vomiting he was going through. Aizen Sousuke had his mouth on his...no strike that..._in _his.

Aizen bit softly on Ichigo's bottom lip and Ichigo was too shocked to do anything except let Aizen do as he wished for the time being.

'The time being' was about 15 seconds, which was plenty of time given the rate Aizen was working at. Ichigo struggled violently and suddenly against Aizen's iron grip, but wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. Aizen worked one hand to Ichigo's throat, holding him in place with a firm hand wrapped around the sensitive limb and thumb holding Ichigo's face up to meet his own. Ichigo turned his face to the side, best avoiding being strangled and managed to wriggle out of Aizen's mouth.

"Aizen—what the _hell?!_" he gasped out, but Aizen didn't want to comment on that yet. The one arm that was wrapped around his back slowly slipped downward, tightly holding the small of Ichigo's back to himself while he continued to devour Ichigo's ear. Ichigo whipped out his hand and hit Aizen on the shoulder with a balled up fist, but Aizen paid no attention. Ichigo hit him again, and only on the fifth time did Aizen stop and jerk Ichigo's face up to meet his.

"Is it so surprising?" he asked quietly, trying to get his voice under his control.

"Of course it is! This was—what the f--?"

"Think about it Kurosaki Ichigo. I've kept you here for three months. And for three whole months, just what is it that you've done for me?" Aizen paused, giving Ichigo the chance to think. Ichigo came up with nothing. "Absolutely nothing. You've been here for that long and I've never bothered to kill you. Why would I do that Ichigo? Why would I keep you here if you were of no use to me Ichigo?"

"For...good company?" Ichigo guessed lamely. Aizen smirked.

Aizen laughed, leaned in closer and once again Ichigo struggled away from him. Just because Aizen had explained his side didn't make this any more comfortable for Ichigo. Suddenly he realized how _close_ and _naked_ they were. He could feel Aizen's body press against his and he continued to do his best and get away from it. He'd never been kissed before this, and he'd never expected his first kiss to not only be a _man_ but _the man_ that was _his enemy_.

"Get off me you pervert!" Ichigo screeched most embarrassingly. Aizen sighed and, much to Ichigo's shock, did as was requested of him. He sat back against the bath once more and closed his eyes, head resting on the stone behind him and throat bare for Ichigo to strangle.

Ichigo did not take advantage of it. He floated, panting and red-faced, trying to explain the actions away. But the truth hit him too hard. Bolting from the water, he ran across the wet rock floor, ignoring his nudity and just trying to get out with some sanity left.

Aizen stayed behind, and didn't even glance in Ichigo's direction. He wondered if what he had said to Ichigo had been a lie.

-----

Karin was so pissed she didn't even look it. Her eyes were open wide, and the rest of her expression hadn't quite registered the burning flame in her stomach as anger, and instead had registered it as something else. Karin covered her face with her hand, wondering why she was blushing. "Why the hell are you here?"

"Nice talk from a brat." the young white haired boy folded his arms across his chest and looked down in the direction of the alley, avoiding eye contact.

"Stupid! I'm not a brat! And what are you doing here!" she looked around desperately. "You couldn't _possibly_ have gotten rid of those guys!" her head was spinning and her logic was doing backflips. She didn't know why her heart had also decided to join the circus, but it too was going through the motion of what felt like a tightrope walk.

"You're the stupid one. What did you do to your hand?" Karin looked down to her hand, all thinking stopping as she looked at the huge gash that sliced from her pinky across her palm. It was deep, and wouldn't heal easy due to the placement--but Karin was nothing if not durable.

"It's nothing. Answer my question." she demanded.

"Brat, give me your hand."

"Call me brat one more time--!" she began to threaten, but stopped when her breathing caught as he touched her hand. His own hands weren't much bigger, but hey had a wider birth to them, making them look much stronger and more competent than Karin's with her stick-like fingers that looked like bread sticks in an Italian restaurant.

"Hold still." he commanded. She didn't even inhale as he turned her hand over, carefully making sure not to spill any more blood as he ripped his shirt with his teeth and began wrapping it around her hand, tightly, and almost enough to make her wince. Almost. "Taking on them. What were you thinking."

"I can take care of myself." she interjected. He glared at her from underneath his shock-white locks and frowned.

"Not so. You can't just run around thinking you're your own hero."

"What do you suppose I do then? Sit, cry and wait for _Ichigo_ to come home and save me? Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I can't handle myself in dangerous situations. I refuse to be useless! He's always gone! I want to be stronger, and take care of myself. Ichigo needs to go, I understand that, and that's why I have to be okay. I have to let go of the stupid things, like childhood and innocence so that I can protect myself and not have others _worry_ about me. I can do it!" Karin didn't know why he was staring at her so intensively now, and she never really would realize it had been because her eyes were shining something fierce and she looked remarkably beautiful with her chin held high and shoulders straight. She almost looked like a grown woman. "And I don't need to be told this by some freak who's younger than me!" she shouted the last bit with the last of her energy and glowered at the boy, face growing redder but back getting straighter.

She felt the knot tighten and she closed her eyes for a moment, ignoring the pain to the best of her ability. When she opened them again, she saw his hand stretched out to her, offering to help her up.

"I said I don't _need_ help!"

Toushirou's gaze didn't waver. "I believe you. But I _want_ to." An invisible hand clenched her chest and she looked at the hand again, unsure.

Goddammit, she muttered to herself silently. She took the hand, face stern and not giving anything else to the Good Samaritan before her. Toushirou didn't say anything, but what was more noticeable than the silence, was that he never let go of her hand.

-----

Orihime lay on her bed, counting the stars in the sky. That took all of two seconds, because there never were any. She was sick of there being nothing to do. Nothing to do except think. Sometimes Orihime hated thinking. She would think and think and feel worse and worse. She could never get anything of her mind but the troubles at hand, and Orihime hated that about herself. There was nothing there to lighten the mood for her, no one else near her to cheer up or be strong for.

She was all alone, and Orihime hated that most of all.

The only times that were semi-bearable were when he was around, even though he did make things harder for her. he couldn't feel, she knew that. But she wanted him to. She wanted him to feel so badly she thought she would break in half, maybe even begin to cry. She wanted him to feel how awful this was, just how horrible it felt to starve herself for no purpose. She knew he knew it was stupid, and so did she, but there would never be any meaning in the knowledge unless there was feeling behind it.

For him, everything passionate was pointless, but it was that sort of passion that Orihime needed to live on. She needed strength and reseolve, and all of it came from her heart, the very depths of her soul. It made her sad, no, _pitiful, _to see someone without the ability to feel such strong emotions.

Orihime tried to empty her mind, tried to lighten the mood and pretend she was practicing to be a monk. She would shave her hair and disguise herself as a boy--it was unfortunate she didn't consider that hair might not be the only thing they would find suspicious--then head for the biggest mountain in Tibet and train herself to be calm, wise, and spiritual.

Like Mr. Miyagi.

She closed her eyes and ignored her silent hysterical tears, chanting softly.

She stopped when her heart jerked. She stopped when the ground became real again. The white became brighter and the night darker as her bloodshot eyes stared out at the sandy dunes.

She stopped when she knew they were coming.

-----

A/N: DAMN KIDS! MACHT IHR DAS NICHTS NOCHMALS! Dumb kids ringing the doorbell and running away. Two can play that game, ohoho yes...

Actually I had planned on getting this out on Sunday, but then I went to Basel wtih my Italian chicka and we went to the most fuckin' A of awesome museums and I saw everyone from Jackson Pollack to Rothko to Dali to Van Gogh to Kokoschka! It was awesome, and we didn't even get LOST this time!

Here's my rant for the day: Let's see if I can defend my case against rap for you. Rap IS an extremely innovative form of poetry/musical ability. The reason it's so often misunderstood is due to the fact not many bother to understand it. People comment on how redundant it is and how stupid the slang is, but really a lot of the slang used is used quite cleverly with double, even triple, meanings, and as for redundancy: hello! All songs are redundant. You constantly have the same musical groups and genres talking about the same things: politics, sex, drugs, etc. The list goes on. Yes these guys like to talk about 'the street', but that's where they were from. That is where they started. The Wu-Tang Clan is a group of twelve guys all convicted of felonies, so yes they use coarse language but that's because it's a part of their person. These guys are modern age rags to riches for their fans--they started out in the ghettos and became famous. The beats may not be exactly swing worth or particularly innovative, but the poetry and delivery certainly is. If you think you can get away with just listening to mainstream "I got my bitches and my homies in my lo-lo" than think again. Artists like Mos Def are out there and making slamming tracks, so don't be hatin' on the rap Gods, 'cause it's chill and legit and here to stay.

Whoot. So next chapter will be what it will be and WHEN it will be, but go ahead and but me for updates cause I love you all and you're all my reader babies. :D

That was slightly stalker-ish. 8D


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter Twenty-Seven

"So I'd call it, 'Housekeeper--Destroyer of Abstract Art'. Isn't that catchy?"

Grimmjow was seething. It was bad enough this new little bitch wouldn't leave him alone--honestly, Ulquiorra must've been behind this stunt's existence-- but now she seemed to think of the _dumbest_ things. And right now, her personal preference was Modern Art.

Grimmjow didn't give a shit about the human world. The only thing they had going for them was the invention of the chainsaw, in Grimmjow's opinion. But this damn wretch was fascinated with every goddamn thing. It didn't matter if it was spit on the side of the street; in some damn way she'd find a way to corollate it to the existence of mankind and the effect it had on their current way of life.

Grimmjow had had enough of Naux, and he was going to end it right here.

"And hey, I've been thinking and you know, those clothes you're wearing are remarkably similar to the 80's fashion in America. They even had that weird hair thing going you have. For them, it was like the higher the hair the cooler you were. Man am I glad that era's over!"

The Bitch had to go.

Grimmjow's eyes hadn't alighted like that since his last ass-kicking fight, and he grinned menacingly as he drew his hand back, forming a large cero. Naux walked along, talking about famous 80's bands and the trends that drew from their wild and crazy new attitude and not really paying attention to the insane-driven man at her side. Finally the cero was humming nicely and Grimmjow could already see his hand driving through her chest, when he was cut off rather bluntly.

An orange head bobbed into view at the end of the corridor they'd been nearing and dashed between the two of them.

Naked.

Naux stopped her speech, mouth wide open in the middle of 'sacreligious' as a very distraught and very stripped and very _wet_ Kurosaki Ichigo ran skidding past them. Grimmjow's cero evaporated slowly as the grin on his face was instantly changed to shock as his former defeater ripped past him in nothing but his birthday suit.

The wind rushed past them and just as quickly as it'd come, the sack of skin and muscles disappeared. Slowly, Naux and Grimmjow turned their heads to look down at the end of the corridor, barely catching the hint of a muscled behind. Both looked at each other cautiously, as if making sure each one wasn't having some sort of crazy dream.

"...The fuck?"

---

Aizen dropped his smile a bit as he walked down the halls.

It wasn't right.

No, he always smiled to himself in his usual omnipotent way, but now he had no desire to. As many apathetic teenagers have quoted, "What's the point, man"? Aizen no longer cared what face he was wearing, they all feared him, and one frown wouldn't do much. But it would, oh! it would, taunted another part of his mind. So carefully this had all been put together, and not now was he going to throw it all away, not now was he going to give it up for the sake of one young man.

For the sake of Kurosaki Ichigo. He tried to lift up his smile again, but it didn't feel right. His eyes were hanging down, and his smile only made it more obvious for someone to notice the dark forehead and the sad eyes. Yes, sad.

Aizen Sousuke, was sad.

He was sad that Kurosaki Ichigo really hated him, and that the young man would never come to think of Aizen the way Aizen so fondly thought of him. He no longer had the raging libido he'd possessed as a live young man in this current deceased form – or so he assumed; he didn't remember much about his past life nor did he care to – he had a soul and the soul longed for more permanent things. Sex was great, but now he coveted something more – love.

As a young Soul Reaper, Aizen had at first indulged in his lust, but as he grew older he realized he no longer needed this form of exercise. For Soul Reapers, for the dead, sex wasn't required. So Aizen had abandoned this and moved on to better things: power, strength, and more power. He'd never bothered to look about him – he hadn't needed love either – for a partner in life because it wasn't part of his plan.

Ichigo had been part of his plan, but not like this. Aizen never had the slightest inclination to believe before all of this that he would fall in love with Kurosaki Ichigo. Of all the people! Ulquiorra was a more likely candidate than Kurosaki Ichigo. _Grimmjow_ was a more likely candidate, and that right there was saying something. Aizen walked quickly and grimly, wanting to be out of sight as quickly as possible. He turned the corner and headed straight for his room, ignoring Tousen as the man began asking him a question about remodeling the throne.

He shut the door behind him, effectively cutting off the discombobulated blind man, and allowing Aizen to cater to his emotions and lie on his bed. He groaned aloud as he lay down and relaxed his ridiculously tense muscles. Each body part seemed to punish and thank him at the same time for finally being allowed to rest, and Aizen closed his eyes as a final act of relief.

Just how on _earth_ did he manage to find himself in this predicament?

And how the _hell_ would he get out of it?

----

Ichigo had remained in his room for all of four minutes before he became antsy enough to come out and wander at his own risk. Ichigo muttered to himself angrily and softly as he walked aimlessly down the halls. He looked at the ground sternly, as if there were a bad dog before him curling up on the ground and cowering beneath him. He scolded the imaginary dog firmly with his clenched forehead and clearly enraged eyes glaring profusely at something Ichigo longed to have power over. Ichigo was never the type to have the need to feel superior, but anyone this out of sorts would have the desperate need to at least have _something_ in their grasp, even imaginary. And so Ichigo scolded.

What was he thinking?

What was he doing?

Ichigo shuddered with anger as he remembered Aizen in the bath, lips on his and body against his. He could feel the warmth and shivered in cold disgust. How the hell had that happened? Was this a joke to Aizen? Was he just another experiment? One of Aizen's curiosities? Ichigo stomped the ground a little harder and continued down his circumventing path.

Well one thing was for sure – Ichigo hadn't liked it. He hadn't liked the warm skin of Aizen against him, surrounding him, encompassing him like a warm blanket. He hadn't liked the soft lips that covered his sweetly; his breath like ice cream on a warm summer night. He hadn't liked the feeling that Aizen wasn't actually doing this for the sake of it, but he in fact was doing this because he wanted to, because—

Because he wanted Ichigo.

Ichigo hadn't liked that at all. Strangely, the young man looked up and found himself in front of the door that held behind it Aizen's personal chamber. _Coincidence_, Ichigo thought, but didn't stop himself from turning the handle and opening the door. He walked inside, and though the lights were on, they were dull. Each bulb seemed to sigh at Ichigo softly, telling him to shush and not make too much noise.

Their master was sleeping.

Ichigo walked over the bed, his shoes tapping against the wood sympathetically, unconsciously heeding the lights' wishes. He brought himself nearer and nearer to the side of the bed, and beheld something he never expected. Aizen was lying on his back, but his face was tilted slightly at a right angle, facing the emotionally befuddled young shinigami. His eyes were closed and his mouth was slightly open. A few stray hairs fell into his face and Aizen slept soundly, breaths coming in and out quietly; a practiced routine. Ichigo moved a step closer, biting his lip and expecting the man to stir and wake up instantly, ready to grab Ichigo's neck and shake him like a doll for disturbing his sleep.

But it didn't happen. Ichigo brought himself right up to the bed and stared Aizen straight in the face.

He didn't look intimidating. He didn't look conceited, arrogant, and self-obsessed like this. He looked peaceful, and kind of stupid. Ichigo looked closer and saw the lines in his face. Aizen was by no means an old man, but Ichigo saw how the lines affected his altogether composure. Dark lines were etched into his perfect skin from stress, from the need to be perfect all the time. Aizen sighed a bit and turned his head slightly, then settled back in his former position. In his sleep, Aizen Sousuke looked...human. Ichigo crumpled his eyebrows together and leaned down, bringing his face right above Aizen's.

_This is stupid_. He told himself. _You don't care about this jackass. He's out to destroy everything you care about. He's out to destroy you!_ He reminded himself, but something wasn't clicking. There was no way this man would harm him. It just didn't fit.

_So what? You trust him?_ Of course not. He wouldn't trust Aizen with a dog he liked. But...

_What?_ He didn't know. Without thinking, he lifted himself onto the bed and looked down on Aizen in a semi-compromising position. He straddled Aizen somewhat, but kept on his threatening gaze.

_It was nothing. It was...disturbing._ he told himself, but as he leaned his face forward he desperately tried to convince himself of something else. Anything to explain his current actions.

_This will only remind you. It'll only remind you of what you hated._ His nose touched Aizen's, but the older man made no move. Ichigo brought his mouth downward and lightly kissed his enemy.

_It'll only remind you there's no hope of success._

Ichigo didn't know how long it had been before the lips beneath his began responding, but it could've been instantly or five minutes. Aizen awoke gently and carefully lifted his hand to Ichigo's face, touching him softly so as not to instigate a negative reaction. It was some time before Ichigo himself awoke from his own coma. He looked at Aizen uncertainly, bewildered and somewhat distressed and Aizen looked at him in return with nothing on his face to expose his thoughts. Ichigo's eyes snapped open, but just as quickly Aizen grabbed onto his arm, silently begging him to stay.

He didn't mind.

Ichigo gave Aizen a look of desperation and self-loathing. He didn't want this, he _did_ mind. But Aizen refused to let his own stare waver and locked eyes with him.

_Stay._ He commanded. Ichigo shook his head and tried to bring his hand nearer to himself. Aizen reluctantly let go, but still stared. Ichigo returned the gaze with puppy eyes and looked to the ground. Aizen didn't sigh as he returned to his sleeping position. As he turned on his side, he felt something grapple at his shoulder and forcefully pull him back on his back. Ichigo looked into his eyes with full force and kissed him again. Aizen was more than happy to comply as he breathed in deeply with satisfaction and lust. Ichigo clenched onto Aizen and resumed his business of locking lips and sharing body heat. Aizen reached up to comb through Ichigo's hair and Ichigo focused on biting Aizen's lower lip.

_What is success anyway?_

----

Rukia knew that unstylish coat anywhere.

Sure there were also the glasses, and the bow, and that face, but it was the coat that always enabled her to recognize Uryu.

"U-Uryu-san?" Rukia called out, though mostly to herself. She had a bad habit of repeated anyone's name she saw when she was surprised. 'Captain Obvious' didn't even cover it sometimes.

"Rukia-san?" Uryu stared out over the dunes and looked down to see a small figure with peculiar hair. Next to her was the one and only Renji, and Uryu sighed before wiping his face with his hands.

He really should have seen this coming.

"The hell? Rukia-chan?" Tatsuki asked. She looked below to see Rukia speaking angrily with the man beside her--that boy Renji that had just entered their class. Tatsuki growled her annoyance and roughly pulled her hand through her short locks.

She really should have seen this coming.

Chad ackowledged the two by nodding and settled for looking back in the direction of the mosque, wondering to himself idly about the shift in wind. Mizuiro and Keigo were equally shocked to see their two classmates below them, and Keigo made a wonderful show of showing it by crying, yelling and sniffling up the excess of snot that came pouring from his nose.

Renji and Rukia made their way up the hill shortly and looked at their cohorts. All expressions were serious as Renji and Uryu glared each other down. Not the whole company knew about the battle they had fought together before, but it was apparent enough something had taken place between the two to make the air so intense. Uryu's eyes narrowed and Renji scoffed.

"You." Uryu said shortly.

"Yeah." Renji responded, mouth frowning something fierce, waiting to be further displeased. A silence fell through and Tatsuki vaguely wanted to kick Keigo, just to test the boundaries of the quiet. Renji looked down and spotted the holes on each of their chests. He quirked an eyebrow. "What's with the holes?"

"What's with the dimwit expression?"Uryu retorted, shifting up his glasses. Renji growled and was about to yell something fierce and minorly insulting--he was never one to think of harsh insults on short notice--when a small lizard made its way up from the ground.

Instantly, Tatsuki pulled out a small blade and sliced it in two. It evaporated into thin air and she grinned as a small portion of her hole was filled up.

"Well that's how that works." Rukia muttered. "Urahara-san I expect."

"No other." Uryu replied.

"And the cat." Tatsuki added.

"Yes, and the cat." Uryu corrected.

Another silence fell, but this one not so intense. Everyone was now acquainted with each other, so no introductions were needed, however, the situation demanded some sort of explanation. The young group stood around, shifting slightly and wanting to scream from the awkwardness.

A slice fell down from the sky, and the entire dune was swept from under their feet. Uryu scrambled to the surface to stay alive, as did the others. Rukia and Renji had escaped most of the harm, but were no stranger to the sand that now permeated their clothing.

Zaraki boomed out his laughter as he stood over an unconscious Keigo, eyes shining and sword gleaming.

"One down, four to go."

----

Author's Note: I basically wanted to put this out today, because it's THE FIRST YEAR ANNIVERSARY!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY NEVER AGAIN!! Lol, I'm so queer at times. 8D (Actually, I forgot to put this up yesterday...so it's like, one day plus one year...D8 )

Let's see, I still need to go over Karin and Toushirou, Mizuho and maybe something with Gin or Tousen, but I think this is okay for now. Everyone is hear, and the party is REALLY getting started. :D

...It took a year to get here? Damn, I suck. Epically. D8 At least I finally got to the sex. 8D

Reviews will make the party cooler. And fun-er. And funnier. Or something. LOVE YOU ALL!!


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

It had to be the way the sun bounced and reflected on his head. It made it look like a huge diamond and she wanted a sugar daddy to give it to her so she could jam it on her finger and stare at it all day. Maybe flash it around for that uptight treasurer to see (that smarmy git).

Or maybe it was the way his ass moved as he swept the front of the shop, side to side, long legs following after like kelp flowing to the waves of the tide. A rear end so tight she wanted to stab some sharp scissors in, just to see if it would pop. There were many things about that rump she'd thought, dreamed and contemplated on, and though she'd grown out of the phase that would make her blush knowing she thought these things, she wasn't quite to the phase to gush them to her friends, and so she merely raised an eyebrow as she watched it move to the beat of her sex drum.

All in all, he was like a half-squished spider--you should back away, holy crap it's probably poisoned or something, but it looks really cool with its legs in that bended shape, and damn if that tattoo on its back doesn't look like its out of some celtic historic museum.

-----

'Regret' was a word that came to Ichigo's mind. But there was something about it that confused him.

Was he, Ichigo, after 'associating' and 'empathizing' with the enemy, experiencing it?

That, he thought grimly, was the mighty question.

It was no cause to alarm that Ichigo had matured a bit since he was 15 years old. More so since his friend had been captured the first time, and bringing around that whole train of thought, Ichigo sighed mentally and pushed onwards. Ichigo had a better sense of purpose, on the whole. He knew what he wanted, as always had been the case before, but now he knew what to do with it.

Before, it had been a matter of 'Bring her back, she's a friend'. Nothing more to add and nothing more to think about. 'Nakama', that had been reason enough.

Now, though very similar, there was a slight difference. Ichigo noticed that his mind wandered further into the realm of thought. No longer was it, 'They are my nakama', but an added on, 'and will remain so.' It seemed nothing special, but for the mind, one small step can make a man.

It meant that Ichigo, once so simple minded, thought more, accepted more, and expected more from himself as well.

He came to save Orihime, not just because he thought of her as a friend, but because he wanted her by his side. He didn't want to feel that hole that everyone would feel if she were gone, and such was the case for any other friend. He hadn't come to _save_ her, strictly speaking, but to bring her home.

He just hadn't counted on _this_ happening.

Regret. It was there, but not because he had slept with Aizen.

It was regret for not being useful, and for losing sight of his goals. And the funny thing was, once he realized that, the thought of what he had to do wasn't so scary anymore.

-----

Regret: to feel sorrow or remorse for an act, fault, disappointment, etc.

Aizen could recite this in every language known and unknown. Not for any particular reason, but as he was a man who'd been on the receiving end of the murdered for many years (quite the understatement) he knew not everyone or everything needed a reason, especially when it came to knowledge.

Regret. A simple concept always involved in the most convoluted of circumstances.

Did a King regret? Yes, often to be sure.

Did a God regret?

...Yes, but not for the past.

-----

The taste of salt was strong as a shocked bite of her tongue caused blood to flow over her taste buds. She brought her fingertips to her lip, lightly pressing on the spot but not bothering to heal or restore it. It was a trifle matter and it barely hurt now.

Her fingertips moved back to the windowsill, her eyes wide enough to reflect the entire moon like a mirror.

She felt it.

That pull on the air, the grip on the earth, that _tug_ on her heart. Four of them, 4 presences, four _human_ presences. The other four accompanying them has spiritual energy plenty, but these, these first four were human. Orihime could almost smell it.

A screech filled the air and she gasped as she bit her tongue again. What could be happening out there?

But most importantly, what was she doing in here?

She turned her back to the window, determination set as her long hair whipped around to rejoin her back. She looked at the door furiously as she approached it

Though it sounded strange, even to her, she had never tried to open the door. Why? Had she accepted her caged fate? Perhaps like a peacock walked to and fro, tail down and colors fading from the lack of pure air and sun. How had she allowed this? A legitimate question, better saved for another time. This drain plug on her freedom had to be removed. _Now_.

Fingers lined the corners and continued around, searching for a weakness of some kind. There were no locks nor bolts that she could see on the door to prevent it from opening, but there was no way out. Giving up on practical methods, she began banging and pounding, even slamming her whole body into the door, but her efforts here were futile as they were foolish. Hueco Mundo did not give in so easily. Orihime took a calming breath, but her eyes held the same magnitude, no, in fact grew in their resolve. She closed her eyes and grit her teeth, her one last chance at what could be freedom to see what was on the other side of the door.

She clasped her hands, and in one large effort--

She screamed.

-----

Kenpachi didn't give a damn either way, as long as he got to cut someone in half relatively soon. He hoped vaguely that maybe that sexist dude would come around. He didn't actually know what 'sexist' meant, concept-wise. Fighting was fighting, why fight someone to beat them cause they have boobs? Kenpachi's bells jingled in confusion so he let his thoughts drift along somewhere else, that didn't have him brooding so hard (not that he was brooding, he didn't really have the emotional capacity for that).

Sweaty teenagers whipped their weapons around before him, and it seemed a crime not to join in and have some of his own fun.

"But Kenny!" his little companion giggled, "If you kill these hollows there won't be enough for them! They'll die too!" Whether she actually found this idea amusing or whether she was just so accustomed to laughing at everything he said, Kenpachi didn't care. He looked down on his sword, and the thought that he hadn't used it within the last five minutes consumed his mind.

So maybe brooding wasn't completely out of his league.

"Hey, you brats almost finished yet?"

The one with the glasses and dorky cape scoffed at him, "Look at the holes!" He did some fancy move causing a bunch of arrows to fly form his arrow, and barely missed the girl who wished she was a boy.

"Watchit Uryu!" she called while slicing the neck of a hollow before her. Kenpachi would have stopped to admire the fact she could do this while not even looking, if he hadn't instead used that energy to sigh at his boredom.

And here he'd come to _relieve_ the boredom. He wondered if that jackass Byakuya planned this.

"Chad, to the left!" Byakuya's sister shouted to the big oaf on the right. Kenpachi had been eyeing him for awhile now, but seeing his skills before him, he kind of lost interest. Size didn't always matter, and here, it was exactly he case.

"How about I hold them while they kill them?" Kenpachi suggested. The redhead with the excessive tattoos frowned, and Kenpachi fought the urge--his only fight within the last ten minutes, he wasn't going to lose--to sucker punch him.

He looked around for a moment to see if pigs were flying, but instead just got some kind of butterfly hollow. Close enough.

"Sir, I don't think you could hold back your bloodlust. That might make it hard for these guys to complete the job of killing the hollow."

Kenpachi muttered some oaths under his breath and watched the scene before him.

"How long is this gonna be?" he asked. He did not whine.

"Less than 24 hours. That's the maximum." replied The Jackass's sister.

"24 hours?! We don't have 24 minutes!" Kenpachi bellowed. "Get off your ass and _kill those Motherfuckers!_" There was a slight upbeat in pace, but altogether too slow for Kenpachi.

"I'm afraid we just have to wait them out sir." The redhead said. "With any luck, we'll get some human formed hollows out here and that'll speed up the process."

A light, though very low wattage and out of use, popped into Kenpachi's mind. He stood, grinning, and unsheathed his sword.

"Kenny?"

"Sir?"

The smile grew longer and wider, spreading out to cut his face in half and he gave a little chuckle of glee. The redhead and The Jackass's sister looked to each other, not knowing whether to be scared or just pissed.

"What say we I just go and 'make things easier' then?"

"...What do you have in mind Captain?"

Kenpachi looked down on the Luitenant, and Renji swore he saw those eyes gleam with some kind of sick, adulterated light.

"I'll bring some hollows here. Make it easier. Yeah?" His laughter was already spreading around the dunes like an oncoming sandstorm, and Renji relaxed as his fists hardened.

It wasn't the _worst_ idea.

And as a Luitenant, he wasn't really in position or argue. Might as well let the crazy man loose somewhere else than around them. He looked to Rukia for approval and she rolled her eyes in consent, going back to shouting warnings and advices to her team.

"Yessir, it's a great idea."

"Thought so myself."

Yachiru laughed and jumped up and down on her Captain's shoulder.

"Let's go kick some ass!" she shouted sweetly.

"Yes." Kenpachi grinned. "Let's." He took off and away from his party, heading to the white castle above the sand, hardly waiting to wipe its facade with the blood his sword would spew.

-----

Ichigo dressed himself quickly and stood silently before his zanpakuto. He was sending his apologies to his friend, for forgetting his duty and his mission. His feet his the ground harder than normal, and Ichigo wondered just what kind of burden he'd put on himself, for following through with the night's events.

He didn't regret it, but he would move on, he would continue, not as a Patty Hearst, not as a victim siding with his enemy, but as an opponent. He would continue down the path he knew was his, as a substitute shinigami following the guidance of the Soul Society.

Hueco Mundo did not gain another pawn through him.

He was Kurosaki Ichigo, an enemy and a foe.

And Aizen was to be killed, stopped at any method. He was a dangerous man that was trying to bring about the destruction of the Soul Society, the world, and _his_ world. Ichigo wouldn't adapt to his new environment, he would stick to the old, he would be loyal, faithful, and true to his life.

Kurosaki Ichigo was Kurosaki Ichigo. The Protector.

He opened his eyes, staring down the room once more with a finality that wasn't to be argued with. The bed sheets were still mussed and stained, neither man having the care enough to fix them. The lights were still dimmed and Ichigo wasn't necessarily reluctant to recall through memory the feel of hot breath against his neck, calloused hands against his shoulders. The air hung about him tentively, reminding him there could never be a reply of the night before, that once he left it would be all over.

But he'd found his path, and he would walk it.

"Leaving, Ichigo?" called the man still sitting in the bed.

Ichigo paused, staring at the man's figure and nodding the affirmative. "Yeah."

"I see." Aizen didn't lean back, or sigh, or even move significantly. The only movement came from his eyes, and a slight tug as his mouth. But he said nothing.

Ichigo exhaled and nodded once more, before turning around grasping the door handle. He turned it with no effort and left the room leaving the door to shut quietly behind him.

Aizen looked at the door and leaned back against the bedhead.

It had been a gamble, it had been his queerest bet, but it had been worth it. Though he was still one Kurosaki Ichigo short of his army, this trial was over.

Now what was left was to clean up the mess.

* * *

Author's Note:

D.

O.

N.

E.

WHAT DOES THAT SPELL? DONE!

I am done with this chapter, and apologize PROFUSELY AND SINCERELY for taking so long I DO plan on finishing this to the end, but updates will become less oft, though hopefully never again (ha! pun) so long as this one. The ending is coming to a close! I've got some plot twists coming, so hold your breath and come for the ride!

But I might take this opportnity to note, that Happy Endings are not in my vocabulary. It shall be very unsatisfying, with a touch of hope.

I love hope. :D

Thank you for reading!


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